Jan. 6th, 2014 09:12 pm
The Twelfth Morning After
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muckefuckThe tree is down but not out. I couldn't face tackling it in the morning, as I'd originally planned, and kept putting it off until almost dinnertime. The ornaments are put away and the room is back to rights, but if I take the little fir outside, it'll freeze solid and there'll be no hacking it up without a real fight. I've got it waiting in a corner of the dining room for now, and plenty of time tomorrow to tackle the job.
By then I think I'll be itching to leave the house for something. I stayed in today because I didn't really feel a need to claim bragging rights for being out in arctic weather. Besides, I thought for sure I'd be going out in subarctic weather tomorrow. Everyone at work remembers the last time we had a snow day; there was over two feet of it. No one can remember having two in a row. I actually had to replay the recorded message to make sure I'd heard it correctly. One unexpected day off is a gift from the heavens, and I savoured it like a gift. Another day on top of that? I almost don't know what to do with myself. It seems unseemly to simply blow it off like I did today, so it's time to think of some projects.
Not that I've gotten nothing done. Reading, for instance. I finished Winter's bone (not too bad once you get over the more Iowa Writer's Workshoppy bits) on Saturday, allowing me to focus more on English. I should finish it handily tomorrow. Meanwhile the Chen is languishing, but I wake up every day feeling too dumb for French. Maybe tomorrow will be different?
Supper was hash with some of the last of the standing rib roast. It felt wrong to be using such a good cut of meat, but better it get used than thrown out. We had no roscón, no kings' cake, but we finished off the last two pieces of the black cake, which was fit for a king. I've got to do something about my appetite. Every meal is an excuse to gorge and if I keep this up I'm wrecked. But the fridge is still packed and there are sweets lying around in most every room; unlike my sister, I can't bring myself to simply throw them out.
By then I think I'll be itching to leave the house for something. I stayed in today because I didn't really feel a need to claim bragging rights for being out in arctic weather. Besides, I thought for sure I'd be going out in subarctic weather tomorrow. Everyone at work remembers the last time we had a snow day; there was over two feet of it. No one can remember having two in a row. I actually had to replay the recorded message to make sure I'd heard it correctly. One unexpected day off is a gift from the heavens, and I savoured it like a gift. Another day on top of that? I almost don't know what to do with myself. It seems unseemly to simply blow it off like I did today, so it's time to think of some projects.
Not that I've gotten nothing done. Reading, for instance. I finished Winter's bone (not too bad once you get over the more Iowa Writer's Workshoppy bits) on Saturday, allowing me to focus more on English. I should finish it handily tomorrow. Meanwhile the Chen is languishing, but I wake up every day feeling too dumb for French. Maybe tomorrow will be different?
Supper was hash with some of the last of the standing rib roast. It felt wrong to be using such a good cut of meat, but better it get used than thrown out. We had no roscón, no kings' cake, but we finished off the last two pieces of the black cake, which was fit for a king. I've got to do something about my appetite. Every meal is an excuse to gorge and if I keep this up I'm wrecked. But the fridge is still packed and there are sweets lying around in most every room; unlike my sister, I can't bring myself to simply throw them out.