It's the Weekend

The planet Jupiter glows, dangling in the dark sky ahead as I make my way home. The front seat beside me is full; my shoulder bag, two bottles of red wine, a big box of coffee beans and a soft parcel, the latter two picked up at the post office in the afternoon. The back seat too is full, of things I mean to get rid of and haven’t yet: books, clothing, sundry. On the floor are two 10-litre jugs of water; always have three days worth of drinking water on hand, they say, in case of a storm or something. I try.

A bagful of goodies

Still half a mile from our yard, I can see lights moving outside our back step. Scott is there with the tractor, pushing snow. I turn in and two big dogs meet my car; they have followed the tractor over from the other place. The ponderous machine holds back out of the way while I drive right up to the step, and then it heads out the driveway and down the road. The dogs stay a few minutes to see what’s what and to be petted before, one at a time, they disappear.

A rainbow of bright tops

I carry in my bag and the wine, and let our own dogs out. It’s icy and I pick my way carefully between car and porch. A second trip gets the coffee and parcel in. A third sees the water jugs set on the snow near the car, and then I back the car off the snow-buried lawn and park it for the night. The grid road calls me out and down the driveway before I return to the house, walking right past the water jugs in its shadow. It’s not till my coat and ski pants are hung up and my boots are off that I realize the jugs are still outside. I pull on a pair of boots and a jacket and go get them.

Bling!

And now I can relax. The shoulder bag and parcel go to the office. The coffee and wine go to the kitchen. The water jugs are lined up next to the kitchen door. I tear off my bra and put on my pyjamas. It’s been a long day, a 10-hour one, and now there’s nothing more that needs to be done. I ate a bun with a slice of ham at the office when we were still working at suppertime, so I’m not hungry yet, even though it’s already eight o’clock. I pour myself a glass of that wine.

Love this necklace

Ahhhh. Meryl Streep is in a movie on TV. If she really does all her own singing and playing in that movie, I'm impressed. And then there is loot, to boot ... before going to bed, I tackle the parcel Joan sent. I'm a wee girl at Christmas and have held myself off this long, and now ... voila! jewellery and clothes and a pretty bag, just what delights this wee girl. How did zat seeester know?

Thanks Joan. You arrr zee besta!

And this is barely the half of it. What fun I'm having, admiring it all.