The last week has been springy and truly lovely. Days ago we went ahead and turned off the heat, and have been throwing open the windows every day. Maybe you live in a part of the country where you could have started doing this in February, but it doesn’t always happen for us this early in March. There is a chance of snow again at the end of this week, but I have decreed that I will keep the heat off unless it gets absolutely miserable inside. I have plenty of blankets, jammies, and cats available for warmth.
The cats probably aren’t thrilled by this development. When I got up this morning, Athena was under the covers by my feet, unamused by the cold bedroom. I came into the bedroom to watch the ten o’clock news this evening, pulling covers up only as far as my hips. Within five minutes, I had a cat on either side of me, trying to steal my warmth. Alfred stared deeply into my eyes, willing me to understand some critical information that I must assume involved his misery at being both cold and not between me and my tablet screen. Athena was harder to photograph, as usual. I almost had her posing for the camera when her daddy made noise behind her. I gave up. She is still in that spot hours later, but she is definitely not interested in posing now.
I don’t want to keep harping on the possibility of this virus obscuring all other news, but I do spend a lot of time thinking about that subject. It’s one of the hazards of living with wacky immune system issues. But it made me wonder, what exactly will I write about if I actually get to the point of self-isolating? If I don’t get out and about often enough, writing in this space becomes an agonizing struggle. I spent all of last summer stuck in my bedroom. I can’t express how much I hope never to repeat that experience. I have so many good things to look forward to doing and seeing this year. I want to participate fully in a life worth writing about. Let’s all hope, people. Let’s hope.
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