SpindleTree of Ember

Not the greatest of days, and I'm afraid I haven't the wherewithal to make any of the stupid little things that made it that way sound at all amusing. Perhaps one of the reasons is that I was looking forward to it being pretty nice, but once again, theory and practice failed to match up. I sent out an inquiry about the state of Madame's hearing aid. It has still not turned up, and Mademoiselle finally broke cover to say there's nothing she can do about it, as her family all have the flu. Okay . . . I try to maintain patience with regard to this rodeo, of which the monkeys do not belong to me. However, it has now been five days, and tomorrow will be six, since Madame has been able to communicate with the outside world. This is a long time for an old person with dementia to be completely cut off. Friends have made brief visits and chatted via writing notes, and I will do the same tomorrow, but it is distressing to contemplate. The temperature will begin dropping tonight, and wintry mix will ensue tomorrow, followed by snow and wind on Thanksgiving, just to make everything sublime. So far, the news calls it "pre-blizzard conditions." I really want to go see the Duchess, but if it's at all blizzard-like, I will really not want to drive out there, and yet I will not want to chicken out and risk hurting her feelings or feeling like a big old coward. As with so many things, one can only wait and see.