If you leave the porch door wide open all night (because you want to give cats the freedom to go in and out, because you're very sympathetic to cat feelings) and it's right around 50F (10C) outside, you're going to wake up to a cold house. If, furthermore, you decide (therefore) to test the furnace in the morning and find it to be not working, your house will not miraculously warm up. Thus, in addition to the new hole in the wall exposing the leaky shower pipe and a new determination on the part of Ed to fix that pipe, we have a cold me, asking to maybe delay the pipe fix and explore the various furnace error messages that are causing our house to remain cold. All morning long.
When you live with someone who designs tools and machines, you have the enormous benefit of having a person at home who can basically fix any machine or device that is humanly fixable. But it can take time. Still, a warm house is a priority, don't you think?
He wanted to sleep in. Instead, I did the animals, glanced at what's blooming in mid-September...
... then I bundled myself up in a fall jacket and sped out for a quick bike ride (because biking warms you up and besides, I have no time later in the day), while he contemplated what of the many possibilities could be wrong with our heating system. By the time I came back thirty minutes later, the house was almost warm.
I celebrated with a special breakfast (of a reheated croissant with milky coffee, to match my new sweatshirt for the year, one that celebrates my most favorite breakfast).
The rest of this morning is spent with my dentist. Sure, he did dental work. (He is excellent at it.) But we also compared in great detail our replaced knees. He had his done two days before I had mine. Same hospital, same procedure, completely different experience, down to the final stitch -- well, neither of us had stitches. I had staples, he had glue.
In the early afternoon I pick up the kids. It's the kind of day when we're not in a rush to get inside, despite just-purchased croissants and yummy fruits waiting for the little guys.
And in the evening, I sat over drinks and food with my two good friends in town. They're recent empty nesters and this really brought back memories because we became friends just when I became an empty nester, nearly twenty years ago. I assured them, kids never go away. And they never ever leave an emotional vacuum within you. Every single day has a kid or a grandkid thought to mull over and evaluate and feel deeply about. Every single one. They move out spatially, but not otherwise (well, unless you're the kind of person who goes out on a boat and disappears over the horizon, leaving no email address behind).
Later, much later, I drive home and think about how calm a September evening can be. No mosquitoes, no threat of heat. A sunset that's not too early and not too late. Sweetly gentle, glowing with gold.
and love...
