WolfDen of Sleet

On Tuesday night, there was pelting rain and blustery wind all night. Yesterday, I joked with Madame that we'd have to watch out so the wind didn't blow her over. I wasn't really kidding, either! When my mother had become quite frail, she actually did have a bad fall one day when the wind caught her heavy coat like a sail, and it blew her over for real. Today, the temperature dropped again, and it SNOWED. Winter is back. First came tiny ice pellets that hissed against the windows, and then bands of heavy snow. It only added up to a few inches, but it was a very icy, slippery kind of snow. I think it caught people off guard. The Sparrowhawk went out to do errands, and he was fine, but he saw one poor soul unable to get up the hill by the expressway.

I got my grocery shopping done while the Sparrowhawk was having his piano lesson. I haven't been feeling great lately, and I kinda crashed again once I was done with my only chore of the day. I can't complain too much, though. There I was, sitting on the couch with my blankie, looking out on the blowing snow from a safe and warm place, a cup of hot tea beside me, and some 18th century music playing. Civilization! I've noticed that my screen time goes up when I'm in a bad mood. This is, of course, absolutely the worst thing one can do. But there's always the fretful hope that the internet will magically bring you something soothing, amusing, or fascinating. Yeah, like that's going to happen. Well, it does happen sometimes, but really, not often enough to make the investment worthwhile. Anyway, I've found myself incapable of being near a screen without bolting down some rabbit hole, so I was forced to revert to pen and paper. This is soothing in itself. I scribble away, all kinds of nonsense, but it feels as if I'm getting somewhere. The thrill of pages covered in lines of handwriting is still much more satisfactory to my retro soul than a file on the screen. It feels more precious and valuable somehow. My words! Miiiine, preciousssssss . . . .