Slower pace
Here we are, in the second week of vacation. Pretty much flat-lining. There’s a point where the novelty wears off. I’m sure that by tomorrow we’ll find something to do with the few remaining hours of leisure. Is lethargy healthy? Is it a sin?
The newspaper isn’t in print for the second day in a row. Guess that shows how quiet things are this time of year; I can’t think of any other time in a year when a hunk of dead tree isn’t coming in the door. The weather is hovering; no new snow or rain, the temperature at a point where the snow is slowly icing over. Every time we take the dog out there’s an increase in the possibility of someone sliding over to the neighbour’s house for an impromptu visit. For the dog, mouse-sensing is even more interesting, because the sound of the chain rattling along is raising activity levels in the tunnels.
Meals are still able to run on left-overs, although I did put together a lovely pot roast supper for those that were present. My trip to buy gas and some necessary things (bagels and Philadelphia, chicken wings in case of late night munchies by the feeders) found a store with only one bag of 2% milk left. A store that could usually care for a veal farm, out of milk! And bread. And other essentials; they closed up early this evening.
On TV the holidays are over but there’s no new content yet. Far too much coverage of the Ford presidential funeral; I firmly believe he deserves the honour, but the lack of anything to say leads to repetition of the repetitions by the voice-over crew. How many times have they shown the scene with a bosun’s pipe now?
Our package containing a shiny new lens is “out for delivery” but it didn’t make it to the Superbox; I guess even the website is at a loss for content and is recycling phrases that are known to cause bursts of adrenalin with the clientele. I’ll survive the disappointment, but only because I’m old enough to accept that postal delivery is never early. A child, on the other hand…
