Winter has reared its ugly head. It is cold and rainy and only 37°. The constant wind makes it feel even colder. Nothing about the day is inviting. I’d love to stay home, but I have PT so I have no choice but to brave the elements.

Yesterday I did laundry, two loads of laundry. I felt accomplished. To add to that sense of accomplishment, I even brought up a few Christmas decorations. Today I’ll add more Christmas. It is time.

The house where I lived the longest was small. Upstairs were three bedrooms, the linen closet and a bathroom. I shared my bedroom with my sister. The radiator was on the wall at the foot of my bed. I loved to listen to it gurgle and steam. I used to sit beside it to get warm in the small space between the radiator and the bed. The bathroom had a tub but no shower. The living room downstairs was the biggest room. It was the room where we spent most of our time. The TV was there near the side wall. A desk was on the wall near the front door. I remember when we had our pictures taken we sat on that desk. I am wearing a skirt and blouse. The blouse had a bow. My brother wore a jacket, and my sisters wore dresses. If I close my eyes, I can see the kitchen. It was small. Only four chairs fit at the table in the corner. The stove too was small. The sink was across from the door. The fridge was on the same wall. My father used to go crazy if we left a glass by the sink without washing it out or opened the fridge just to hunt. Our Woolworth’s turtle’s bowl was on the counter.

That house was one side of a duplex in a project of duplexes. It was the first house you saw when you drove up the hill. It was on the corner and looked tall. The front lawn was a grassy hill. At the bottom of the hill was a streetlight and a mailbox. I used to watch out the picture window when we had snow. Every flake glistened under under the streetlight. It was almost magical.

Today will be a strange weather day. Both rain and snow showers are predicted. It is still cold, only 38°. Everything is wet from the rain during the night. The kitchen floor from the backdoor to the hall is covered in muddy paw prints.

I tend to get discouraged about my finger. It still doesn’t bend all that much. I work it at home and at PT, but it stays stiff and is often swollen. I try to use it a much as I can, but I’m limited so that doesn’t seem to help much. When I mention being discouraged, my therapist reminds me it was a horrific injury. It is the area of the fractures which is the most trouble.

Yesterday I filled my dance card with all of this week’s appointments and events. I haven’t a free day. I have three related to medical and four uke events. I long for my sloth days, for naps in the afternoon and for wearing cozies all day.

When I was a kid, the mailman came twice a day during Christmas time so he could deliver all the cards. We loved opening those cards, especially the few addressed to us kids. I remember my Aunt Barbara used to send each of us Santa cards. We’d put those cards in the middle of the tree to hide the bare spots. The rest of the cards we used to hang on a string which stretched across the living room wall. My mother always kept track of the cards she’d sent and the cards she’d received in her green metal Christmas card box filled with index cards.

My mother suffered from the Christmas bug and we, my sisters and I, caught it. Everything in our houses is decorated. We still buy live trees. Our yards are lit. My brother-in-law climbs a tree to hang his Santa and reindeer. All his neighbors look forward to Santa. I use colored bulbs out front and white bulbs, which are lit every night of the year, on the gate and fence and at the other end of the deck. I have a wreath on the small gate and front door.

This year I am very behind with wrapping presents and putting up decorations and the rest of the lights. It is that finger again. My factotum didn’t get back to me so I’ll do what I can, slowly do what I can. I hate slowly.