Today is chilly and cloudy. Rain is predicted. The temperature is in the mid 40’s, today’s high. My house is warm. The furnace is blasting lovely hot air. The fix was easy. He turned on a switch I had turned off without noticing when I was hanging a picture. I was that old woman oblivious to the world at large or at least to the outlet on the wall. 

My inner sloth has full rein today. I watch the dust balls fly into the air when I walk down the hall, and I don’t care. The dogs and I are on the couch. They are sleeping, breathing deeply. My feet are up on the table. It is just one of those days. 

My jigsaw puzzle is still in progress, but I am at the point where I can pick up a piece and generally know exactly where it goes. I’m hoping to finish this weekend. 

When I was in Ghana, Peace Corps had Range Rovers, the sort you’d see in National Geographic pictures crossing the desert in caravans. I hitched a ride a few times. The Range Rover always seemed exotic to me, a vehicle for adventures, for faraway places. 

My house has a deck but I’d also like a front porch. On the Andy Griffith show every Sunday after dinner, Andy, Barney and Aunt Bee settled on the porch. Barney was still wearing his church suit, his really ugly church suit. Andy would bring his guitar, and they’d sing. Neighbors would walk by and they’d say, “Hey!” The porch was neighborly. 

When I was a kid, my clothes were functional, not fashionable. I had school clothes, church clothes and play clothes. My school clothes were a uniform. My church clothes were usually a skirt and a blouse. My winter play clothes were pants and warm shirts. My summer play clothes were shorts and sleeveless blouses. In Ghana I had to wear dresses. I had most of my dresses made there with Ghanaian cloth. For the first time, I was fashionable. 

I don’t intend to move much this weekend. My longest walk will be between the den and the kitchen either to let Henry in or to get myself food and drink. If I get tired, I’ll rest in between.