Back again, and now three days away from leaving for Florida for 12 days. Rose has suggested bringing Smidge over to their house for these long trips. I agree, wishing she’d brought it up early enough that I could have acclimated her to their house (and other cats) before I had to actually abandon her for nearly two weeks. But they are weary of dealing with the wood stove in my absence, and no stove means a cold house, and that’s only acceptable if Smidge isn’t here. It is causing me a great deal of stress. Upside is that I will save a lot of wood, maybe still have a couple of pieces left when I return. There is no hope of cutting any more here, with the several feet of snow everywhere and the mountains of it thrown up by the plow. I will end up ordering wood. We ran low on wood and pellets at the same time; I have to pick some up today. Tractor Supply has them for cheaper than CJ’s, who isn’t returning my calls anyway. They don’t deliver, though, so I have to get them, and then transfer fifty bags of pellets to the pallet on the back porch. I’ll borrow Rose’s chainsaw to trim some pieces I have that are a mere inch too long to fit into the stove. The cord on mine isn’t pulling right now for some reason.
In prep for that I moved the last 14 bags from the old batch into the mudroom last night. Three on the bottom had been chewed into by mice. Not surprising. I duct-taped them closed and brought them inside for immediate use. Not much loss. I wish there were a more secure way of storing them, though. Anyway, between the shoveling and the hossing of fuel, I’m getting some upper body strength that I’ve missed.
My hands are flaring absolutely horribly, and I’ve found little patches of eczema on my arms and legs as well. They wake me up in the night, itching. This sometimes subzero winter is cruel to my skin, my lungs, my sinuses. I’m still highly congested and allergic, following the virus I had a month ago. The snow is like an enemy that won’t leave the yard. I’ve gotten snowed in here twice; if Karl hadn’t had machinery I wouldn’t have gotten out til Spring. Even after the plow came last week, I could barely get out into the street, there was still so much at the mouth of the driveway. He says I need my own tractor. I’d kind of LIKE to have my own tractor, actually. That’s kind of an exciting proposition. We’ll have to keep our eyes open for a used one we can afford. There is also the matter of wood storage. I need a woodshed that is closer to the stove than the opposite side of the house. I am imagining bumping out the pass-through room, where I’m currently sleeping. It’s right off the living room. Take out the window, put in a door (French door, windowed, so there will still be some light) and create another room beyond that opens to the back. Put a window in it so the pass-through won’t be dark as night. Stockpile wood in there and it’s just feet from the stove. This will work best when the upstairs room is done and I can move up there to sleep.
And, dreaming as if money were no object here, if there’s a room THERE, we might as well build up and extend the little bathroom upstairs off the master bedroom. Create a dressing room/bathroom, a little boudoir. I love it when a bathroom is big enough to put a comfy chair in it.
Of course all this will wait until K’s shop is built, and I don’t even know if we can afford it any time soon, and do I really want to take on chickens with these projects looming as well? (Probably.) Last night as I first wrote about this I was so discouraged and weary, I could only think of the downsides. Touring is taking its toll this winter, as I knew it would. Things will look more hopeful as the days get longer and there is SOME hope of this snow going away.
I got home late yesterday afternoon. Smidge didn’t leave me alone for five minutes all night. She jumped on my shoulders a dozen times, put her paws up against my legs, sat on my lap, sat on this little table looking at me for 45 minutes, watching me eat dinner, her eyes blinking sleepily. I love her desperately.
I deal with the resentment of touring, go back and forth, maintain gratitude for the money coming in. I feed the stove and stay warm.
I’m going through a lonely phase. So bored with no flirtation, no interest, no romance, no sex. It’s been 3-1/2 years since I even kissed anyone, let alone had sex. I think, who would want me now anyway? Oy. Sure, honey, I’ll sleep with you. Let me just get my mouth guard, my breathe-right strip, my earplugs, and my A&D ointment. BRB. Last month my body had the nerve to menstruate. Just menopause already.
I’m taking some Prednisone to Florida with me, and will decide whether to knock back all the inflammation for a few days. I haven’t had to do that in a long time, so I won’t feel hesitant if this continues to be agonizing.
Meanwhile it’s going to be a busy day and I have my list ready. Might as well get to it.
Healer, Musician, Bookmaker, Poet 
Mel said,
February 23, 2011 at 10:29 am
At our age, men have the same sorts of things going on – they’ve got their care routines, too. It doesn’t stop them from wanting women, any more than the reverse would stop us from wanting them. You are a lovely person, don’t sell yourself short.