Wednesday - 334th

Eyes on the thermometer, on the cats, on the microwave. 

When you live in isolation, your day is made up of little acts, facts and foibles. You notice that the polar vortex is still the unwelcome visitor that has way overstayed any possible welcome. And you try to coax and cajole six feral cats away from the writer's shed so that the seventh feral cat can get something to eat. Because it is super cold and you can't stand the idea of the seventh, an outsider, going hungry out there in the wild. 

And you provide encouraging words to Ed who has finally brought in a new, brand new $50 microwave to replace the broken one that has been dangling over our stove for months now. The busted machine comes down, the new one goes up. 

After breakfast of course.

(Ed's morning hair...)

Eyes on the live coverage TV,  on the play room which still needs a lot of straightening and winnowing, on the sky where the clouds move away and reveal lovely sunshine. Still polar vortex cold and a touch windy, so that if you go out, your face stiffens to something resembling cardboard. But we can't resist. We ski, alone, I guess because no one else finds cardboard faces to be attractive.

Eyes on dinner preparation and unfortunately not on Dance who is underfoot and suffers the indignity of being stepped on by me.  I hope she does not hold grudges. 

 

 

 

Dance now routinely spends time in the farmhouse in the evening, though I have to wipe her down before she comes in because she has taken to rolling around the dirt in the barn right after her dinner. My hands look nearly black afterwards. Did someone say cats are exceptionally clean?

 

So no, I did not write much today. Distractions were ever present. Good ones mostly. Seventh cat well fed, microwave installed, and a double loop skied. A day of accomplishment, wouldn't you say?