Taking Care

When it gets this cold, below ten degrees, everything takes more time. I slept through the night, so the house was cold and I had to seriously work the stove to get back up to speed. Moving slowly and with great care. It's after two before I eat a bowl of stew. I need to get to town again before Sunday, when more snow (much) is forecast, so I spend some time compiling a list. Temps are supposed to rise through the night, so I might be able to get out and back in on Friday morning, when the driveway might be clear and frozen. One more trip to the woodshed should see me through the night. At four in the afternoon the house is decently warm and I have a great fire going. Finally settle down with a drink and read the latest Lee Child, which is fine reading. What I accomplished today was staying alive. The phone went out, it makes a little half-ring when it dies, so I don't know when I'll be able to send a paragraph. TR had called from the museum, before the phone died, wondering if I was still alive. Now that the phone is out and the driveway is impassable, I'm guaranteed complete solitude. Getting warmer all day, up to 25 by dark, and I can feel it in the house. Leftover beans and a grilled cheese for dinner. I'm tired, even though I haven't done anything, burning lots of calories and BTU's just to keep from freezing to death; I actually sleep more in winter than any other time of year. Semi-hibernation. Climb into my down bag with a headlamp and a decent novel. Tunnel out the next morning and start another fire. But it's not endless, it's only sixty days or less. I listen to some music from Africa, then some stuff from Japan. From my history with opera, I'm used to not understanding the text. I'd gotten up, to check the fire, went outside to pee, just at dawn, and it was above freezing, first time in days. I had left the radio on, which I don't often do, to listen to the late night NPR programming: "Afro-Pop", "Crossing Boundaries". I'm kind of interested, it's an amusement, a folly; I don't care about popular music, or popular culture for that matter. My major concern is entering this first of many freeze/thaw cycles and trying to time a trip to town. Mud is a fact of life. I have what I think of as The Mud Protocol, which is a very sensible approach to dealing with the shit you track in on your boots. Despite my best intentions I still track mud inside. I let it dry and sweep it up, then wipe the spot with a wet paper towel. 24 hours ago it was 8 degrees, at noon today it was 42, the snow all gone, and when I go out for a walk the world is a sloppy mess. Over at the head of the driveway I can see that Ryan and Kinsey have gotten in and out, so I figure I can do the same tomorrow. The phone was still out but in the late afternoon it burps, which means I'm on line again, so wherever I get with this paragraph I'll send it tonight. My boots were so caked with mud I had to clean the tread with a stick, then bring them next to the stove so they'll dry and I can bang off most of the detritus, clean them and give them a new coat of waterproofing. Next time I'm in town I'm going to the Payless Shoe Store and get a pair of L.L. Bean/Sorel knock-off, slip-on, felt lined, rubber bottomed boots. Eliminate that entire taking off your gloves to untie the shoelaces step. I have to double knot my shoelaces, and about one in ten times I can't untie them with my frozen fingers, so I end up walking inside anyway, to get the ice-pick, which is the weapon of choice for untying very tight laces. In survival mode, it's this mundane stuff that fills your time. It takes me ten minutes to get out of my boots, and by then there's a pool of water, and I'm irritated, because I hadn't bought the slip-on boots earlier. I have a couple of towels I use for cleaning up these messes, Goodwill towels, I use them a few times, dry them on a line behind the stove (this adds a great ambiance to the general 'feel' of the house) and then recycle them back to Goodwill.