Day Off

I drank a bit yesterday, never got out of my bathrobe. Life doesn't stop and I did get to town, had a tire repaired, today; stopped for a book at the library, then just went to Kroger, didn't stop at the pub. I continue, with every trip to town, to buy a few things for the larder, stopped at B's and exchanged books, picked up some London Reviews. Phone call from TR and Glenn has sent all of the O' Brian books to the museum for me, so I'll pick those up next trip and that should top up my winter reading. I need to do my laundry for the winter, all the socks, the several changes of long underwear. I can, and do, wash these in melted snow mid-winter, but it takes all day to do a load of wash, get it hung to dry over near the stove. First hard freeze Saturday night, and that should help to beat back the bugs; first forecast of snow, I always make a last run for supplies, perishable things, and plan a few meals ahead. Sitting on the back stoop and the crows saw me, settled into the dead poplars out beyond the outhouse and went into a raucous chorus. I nuked a couple of frozen mice and tossed them over. They're so smart they amaze me: if they see me, they go into their routine until I give them a mouse. Clever. Or it seems clever. A station of the day. The book from the library was the new Sanford novel, and I needed a break, so I read it at a sitting. Grazing on anchovies and cheese and crackers. Escaping into the fictional world is such a relief. Much better than imagining the pillow fight in the White House when the Trumps take over.