Our Charming Little Blizzard
Assuming we'd lose power today, I got in the shower immediately. A girl doesn't want to have to air dry her hair, after all. The house is clean, I've got dishes in the dishwasher and keeping my fingers crossed we don't lose power mid-cycle, and all the faucets are dripping hot water to avoid freezing pipes. The cat and I marvel at the scene, and even though the driveway has been plowed three times in the night, ain't no way I could have gotten around the corner to church this morning. The drifts in front of my door are chest level. My cute snow shoveling guy, Dan, stopped by last night to check on me. As he left he said the thing that warms the heart of every secretly whimpy lone homedweller: "Call me if you get scared." Everyone in town likes to take care of the single gal minister,who they think of as all spiritchal and stuff, and not much good at practical knowledge, and they're so right! Last night I had to call my neighbor Larry to ask if my fire was getting too big. Above all, I do NOT WANT TO BURN DOWN THIS HOUSE.
I am listening to this wonderful Frenchy jazzy gal named Madeleine Peyreux, courtesy of H & R who burned me a copy of the CD last weekend. Back in the days when we could leave our houses. I am even more grateful today to my mad compadres S and M, who spirited me off to the North End on Friday night. It was just what the Winter Doctor ordered, before the claustrophia-inducing blankets of white stuff.
If you have any deities of whom you are particularly fond, please appeal to them to get me on my flight to Savannah, GA tonight. Or even tomorrow morning would be okay. Thank you.