Monday, February 8, 2021

Snow to shovel this morning, though I can't tell how much yet. All I know for the moment is that it's another chore to add to my Monday list, along with deal-with-editing-stack and fill-empty-refrigerator. Yesterday morning we did go skating, this time at Capisic Pond, a big neighborhood pond cluttered with families and hockey sticks. It was fun, but the boys now want their own hockey sticks. So maybe we'll try to find a couple.

Otherwise, it was a quiet day. I read The Leopard and cleaned bathrooms and made clam chowder. Tom spent most of the day in the cellar, working on his shop setup. Paul went to work. We watched the Super Bowl with irony and cynicism, rooting for plenty of quarterback sacks and a 0-0 score.

And now I am drinking my small cup of coffee and listening to the furnace grumble. I apologize for not being jam-packed with newsy tidbits and bright ideas. Mostly I am trying to wake up, trying to convince myself to get off this couch and go downstairs and take the dry laundry off the lines, trying to dredge up some enthusiasm for an 8 a.m. abs class. I do kind of feel as if my head is stuffed with straw. Happy slow morning. Probably I'll be clever and brisk again someday.

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