The waning of winter
Feb. 17th, 2003 01:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanIt might get above freezing today. Yesterday when I went home from Eric's, I saw people out with ice choppers and shovels, getting the layer of glare ice and pounded snow off the sidewalks. I even took a 14-block walk at sunset, to get some tea for Raphael. I'd offered to stop off at the store on my way home from Eric's but then forgotten. It was not as warm as today, but it felt just fine after the below-zero weeks.
Today began as so brilliantly sunny that all over the house cats were sprawled out flat like little organic photovoltaic cells, whereever a patch of sun offered itself. The temporarily exiled kittens had to make do with patches of sun on the back staircase. The cats who displaced them were worse off, though; Lydy's office only gets sun early in the morning and the rest of the downstairs sun hits the cat-free zone. Lilith used to fuss and fuss about that. Upstairs, Jordan expanded to fill the entirety of the coveted patch in front of the refrigerator. Beryl got one of the armchairs and demonstrated that she would make a good blind person's cat -- you can tell what color each patch is by the difference in temperature, at least until she achieves uniform heat. Minou sat very erect on the floor of the cat-sitting room. Ari disdained sunlight per se, but yelled so long and pawed so insistently at my office window that I opened it. There is not much wind and little of it is from the west; also the arbor vita trees block some of it. It is still stark folly to have a window open when the temperature is, as it was then, 23 degrees. He's very happy, however, winkling up the fur on his spine and moving his nose and ears a lot.
The chickadees are announcing themselves all over the landscape. And the east coast of the US is stealing all our weather again.
I wrote 650 words yesterday. This still definitely feels like Zeno's Chapter.
David's notion of soothing bedtime music does not always mesh with mine. The last time he chose half an hour of songs to fall asleep to, I was wide awake in five minuntes and didn't get to sleep unti five a.m. Last night, though, he chose lovely stuff and I slept like a log. That could happen more often, I wouldn't mind a bit.
Raphael and I are happier with "Buffy" now that we have seen "First Date." We are slogging through old episodes of "Angel," noting that it sometimes resembles first-season "Buffy" -- dumb monster of the week stuff but with improving character interactions. And those are what we watch for, really, the latter, I mean.
I have been making things unnecessarily fraught for Eric by being simultaneously sentimental about our anniversary and mopey because by this time next year he probably won't be here. He responded by suggesting that if he ends up going back to California this summer, I might drive with him -- I can't drive, but I can keep him from pulling crazy stunts like driving for 24 hours straight, and help with cat-wrangling and navigation -- and before I go home again he could show me some of California, where I have never been except in utero. That was profoundly comforting.
Frail faint clouds are coming up out of the west. Maybe I should take my walk early. If I am exceptionally alert, I can remember to stop by the hardware store on the way home and get such vital and long-neglected items as lint filters for the washer hose, light bulbs, and the parts to repair the upstairs toilet. And bird seed. Because now is the time to plant birds, you know.
Pamela
Today began as so brilliantly sunny that all over the house cats were sprawled out flat like little organic photovoltaic cells, whereever a patch of sun offered itself. The temporarily exiled kittens had to make do with patches of sun on the back staircase. The cats who displaced them were worse off, though; Lydy's office only gets sun early in the morning and the rest of the downstairs sun hits the cat-free zone. Lilith used to fuss and fuss about that. Upstairs, Jordan expanded to fill the entirety of the coveted patch in front of the refrigerator. Beryl got one of the armchairs and demonstrated that she would make a good blind person's cat -- you can tell what color each patch is by the difference in temperature, at least until she achieves uniform heat. Minou sat very erect on the floor of the cat-sitting room. Ari disdained sunlight per se, but yelled so long and pawed so insistently at my office window that I opened it. There is not much wind and little of it is from the west; also the arbor vita trees block some of it. It is still stark folly to have a window open when the temperature is, as it was then, 23 degrees. He's very happy, however, winkling up the fur on his spine and moving his nose and ears a lot.
The chickadees are announcing themselves all over the landscape. And the east coast of the US is stealing all our weather again.
I wrote 650 words yesterday. This still definitely feels like Zeno's Chapter.
David's notion of soothing bedtime music does not always mesh with mine. The last time he chose half an hour of songs to fall asleep to, I was wide awake in five minuntes and didn't get to sleep unti five a.m. Last night, though, he chose lovely stuff and I slept like a log. That could happen more often, I wouldn't mind a bit.
Raphael and I are happier with "Buffy" now that we have seen "First Date." We are slogging through old episodes of "Angel," noting that it sometimes resembles first-season "Buffy" -- dumb monster of the week stuff but with improving character interactions. And those are what we watch for, really, the latter, I mean.
I have been making things unnecessarily fraught for Eric by being simultaneously sentimental about our anniversary and mopey because by this time next year he probably won't be here. He responded by suggesting that if he ends up going back to California this summer, I might drive with him -- I can't drive, but I can keep him from pulling crazy stunts like driving for 24 hours straight, and help with cat-wrangling and navigation -- and before I go home again he could show me some of California, where I have never been except in utero. That was profoundly comforting.
Frail faint clouds are coming up out of the west. Maybe I should take my walk early. If I am exceptionally alert, I can remember to stop by the hardware store on the way home and get such vital and long-neglected items as lint filters for the washer hose, light bulbs, and the parts to repair the upstairs toilet. And bird seed. Because now is the time to plant birds, you know.
Pamela
