Everything you gather is just more that you can lose
Made it home through the mud. It’s 38 degrees and pouring rain outside. I approached the muddy section of the road on the left side, knowing that near midnight – or nearly any other time of day – the chances of another car on my road were slim. The first thing that happened was I slid sideways toward Marilyn’s mailbox and as I steered to the right, I hit a huge puddle full of mud and it covered my windshield with thick brown mud. I couldn’t see until I hit the wipers and they took a swipe or two. By then I had been pulled into a rut near the middle of the road and had to gun it pretty hard not to sink in. Plowed through that stretch and everything was okay. This stuff is rough on passenger cars. I’m the only one for for a mile in any direction without a four-wheel drive truck, and mostly you only really need them a week or two a year. But this would be one of those weeks. I can park at the neighbors, but who wants to walk home half a mile through eight inches of mud and the pouring howling windy rain at midnight?
“Tomorrow will be Sunday, born of rainy Saturday.”
Met four new people tonight, and got better acquainted with three others I already knew. Lots of jokes and banter – I haven’t laughed that much in months. And I forgot how amazingly yummy a multi-ingrediant fresh vegetable soup can be! Friends in a New England winter: keeps the place habitable, I tell ‘ya.
February 4, 2006