Identity Questions

Profiling. Because I look like the village dimwit doesn't mean I am. My drain was frozen and now I'm afraid the trap is plugged, But I can't get to it until tomorrow. The girls didn't get here today, they must be stuck in Columbus, and just before dark I see the first snowflakes. I have a bucket of pig scraps that I need to get rid of, and I hope to drive down into the forest and dump them for the scavengers to have a shot at them, if I can't get out I'll have to carry them down the logging road, which is too close to the house, what with feral dogs and the occasional bear. The timing on this slaughtering is awkward, but I think I'm clear of the mess now. I dip the skinned head in brine and hang it back up, clean some blood off the kitchen floor, bury the fouled newspaper. A wonderful slice of liver, fried in pork fat, with caramelized onions, and a fried egg on top, toast with red-onion jam, an excellent meal, reading Randall White's book on Prehistoric Art. When you posit that there was time to make beautiful things, you posit a structure: I'll give you half a seal if you carve me a fetish. I've used so much water, the last couple of days, 12 gallons, that I'm a bit concerned, and I have dishes to wash when I get the sink unplugged, and my hair to wash. Never ending sequence of things that need doing, and all of them take so much longer, working in the cold. Start a fire, melt snow, wash dishes, isn't the same as turning on a tap. More than half the year I use a solar shower, standing on a pallet, the rest of the time I sponge bath at the kitchen sink, except for one night when I rent a motel room, soak, shower, soak, and emerge a confused moth. And it's not even to make a point, it's just the easiest way for me to live. Within my means. Within my abilities. What the hell are alternative facts? I have to give up on the news again. I suddenly can't understand the language. The girls went out and partied in Columbus and just started down here at noon. I'll see them about three. Snowing but the temp seems to be about 33 degrees, I heard a few drips, but only for about thirty minutes. I take a very cold sponge bath, and can't bear the thought of washing my hair. I think I'll get Samara to buzz my head and beard down close. Easier to maintain, less water use. I actually own an electric hair clipper, though I have no idea where it came from. Jerome assures me that it would be the easier path. Lord knows I need easier. I move more slowly now, through the winter landscape. I'd needed to re-treat a couple of cast iron skillets I'd abused. I will never again scramble eggs in a cast iron skillet. I found a great 6 inch double-plated stainless steel over copper pan at Goodwill, $1, and it is perfect for so many things. I'm not a Luddite, I just live a long way from a hardware store. From any store. Leather makes a fine hinge, you can reuse nails, I start all my fires, now, with junk mail and cash register tape. When did cash register receipts get to be four feet long? Following strict protocol I can build a fire with two these and the right kindling, rarely I use a propane torch, to get things going. A good fire tonight, the girls carried in wood in the afternoon, and went shopping for me. New Boxer Briefs, some socks, they brought subs home, and cleaning supplies; after hauling wood they start cleaning the kitchen. I feel guilty, but not much, they seem to have known they were coming to do this. Foodstuffs, whiskey, snacks, they brought it all, then went to town for more. They bag up trash for a long time, then clean surfaces, then do dishes, astonishing actually, and eating the subs later, they talk about what they want to get done tomorrow, toward setting me up for the rest of winter. I get so tired, watching and listening to their banter, that I have to take a nap. It's exhausting, they have so much energy. They walked in and out the driveway twice, to ferry in supplies. They kept working, until seven, then eight at night. Their sense of cleanliness is clearly different from mine. Other of my friends would be proud of them, for cleaning surfaces I never thought to clean. They use a lot of bleach wipes. The kitchen, when they're done, is much brighter, reflects more light. They clean and disinfect the dish drainer before they'll put any dishes in it. They threw away things they considered too gross to be redeemed and replaced them, and they used a lot of water. Samara is all over my case for staying on the ridge. Argues cogently that the life is too rough, that I'm getting too old, the weather is too tough, and the driveway sucks. They both worry about me getting sick and/or falling. I argue that I'll spend more next year on help one day a week, to do the heavy lifting during the winter months, and that I am extremely careful, now, in the way I conduct my life. A trip to town every week or two, melting snow for wash water, a virtually unlimited supply of books, absolute peace and quiet. I don't see why I shouldn't take advantage for a year or two more. I'm actually very comfortable.