We got home by midafternoon yesterday, a much quicker and easier drive than our snowy Christmas Eve journey was. That gave me plenty of time to wash, hang up, dry, fold, and stow two loads of laundry; make borscht for dinner; water houseplants; carry firewood. Vacation was so lovely, but reigniting the workaday pilot light felt good too.

Now here we are at Monday--a sloppy, messy, icy Monday, and I wish Tom didn't have to drive to work in it. By the time I need to pick up Chuck, it should be straight rain, but the situation doesn't look good now. My plan before fetching the big kitten is to get onto my mat, clean the bathrooms and floors, and then make a grocery-store run, if time and weather allow. But if the sleet persists, I may end up baking my own bread and concocting yet another what's-on-hand meal. Thank goodness for sturdy winter produce, those carrots, turnips, beets, and cabbages waiting cheerfully in the refrigerator drawer; the shallots and potatoes in the cellar; the boxes of stock and bags of mushrooms in the freezer.

With Christmas behind us, the next week looms enticingly . . . home; temporary unemployment; a long chance to read and write and putter. Other than prepping for our little New Year's Eve party, I am untethered.