Woke up this morning a wee bit before 5 o'clock. Went to the windows facing the street to see what kind of gifts Mother Nature had left. It was still snowing lightly. There appeared to be between 6 and 8 inches of snow, judging by what was piled on top of cars and on the roofs of the buildings.
Looking at the snow reminded me of the last job I worked before retirement. I liked the job itself, for I spent my day working with dogs. But I liked it even better for the fact that it was located next door and I didn't have to try to start a freezing cold car, scrape ice and snow off the car windshield and windows or fight the morning commuter traffic.
In the winter after a snowfall, I would go to work early, grab a shovel and clear the sidewalk of snow. Some days it was an easy job of sweeping. Other days like today, when the snow is wet and heavy and especially if it was deep, it was a job for a much younger person. But you know how it is when you are pretending that you really aren't getting old. You do it anyway and pay later.
This morning I can admire the beauty of the snow by looking out my window. Instead of being outside shoveling, I am still in my jammies, coffee cup in hand, thanking the good Lord that I don't have to do that any more. I love retirement.
Lily the Yorkie, the one who was so sick, has recovered nicely. She is back to her bouncy self, barking at the snow removal equipment in the street below. But since being sick she has, for reasons known only to her, decided that I can not be out of her line of vision. If I go to the kitchen, she is right behind me. If I am at my desk, she is standing next to my chair with her little paws on my leg. If I am in my recliner reading, she is curled up at my feet. I keep my bedroom door closed, for the other one, Jessie Jane, will sneak in and potty on the rug if given the opportunity. Can't break her of that nasty habit. So when I go to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, Lily stands outside the door and raises all sorts of a fuss. She is needy.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I do not like forced inactivity. Yesterday I was still experiencing cold chills, but I had slept all that I possibly could. So I wrapped myself in my fuzzy blanket, plopped myself down in front of my computer and dug into my genealogy program. I still have lots of information to enter. For some, the study of generations past is dry as dust. For me, it is fun to learn about those ancestors of mine. As I worked on transcribing past census records I found that one great-great-great aunt ran a hotel in a small Minnesota town. Many were farmers. One branch of the family moved from Minnesota to Washington and Oregon, where they held a variety of jobs. And another spent her last years in an Alms House, which I found sad. The entering of information into my program is tedious, but the detective work to find that information is fascinating. I think that we are the sum total of those who came before us. I want my children and grandchildren to know who they are.
So I will take it easy over the weekend, doing what needs to be done but refraining from starting any big projects. The local weatherman tells me that by Monday the sun will shine and the temperature will get into the mid-sixty degree range. By that time I will either be well again or stark raving insane from inactivity. I vote for well.
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