What do the Christians call this day? Epiphany?
It’s a word that now always makes me think of “apostrophe” (Smee, speaking to Hook).
Not much of an epiphany this morning, except that W. opted to work from home – which is great because it’s snowing like crazy.
I awoke with a feeling that my forehead was on fire: classic sinus symptom. Should have taken a Mucinex-D last night, too, instead of just in the mornings (as I have been doing since Monday when the sore throat started). But I didn’t, and now I hope I didn’t give too much of an inch to lose not my foot, but my head… The sore throat also continues. In short, I’ve got the January blahs (health blahs).
More coffee, please.
The thick skies make it impossible to speak of “light” in any real sunshine-y sense – all is muffled and lowered way down, nearly to the ground. There’s not enough room between the low hanging clouds and the ground for light actually to expand, so it biffed off and left us in the dark.
Yesterday – it was really cold, 25ºF without windchill factored in – I walked with W. to the train station, and on the way home stopped at CVS to stock up on Mucinex-D. But I couldn’t make the purchase (which requires ID) because my driver’s license had expired on my birthday last month. It’s a good thing I tried to buy the medication because otherwise I really wouldn’t have realized it, perhaps for ages longer. Came home and made the renewal online. Thank-you, internet – and DMV in Massachusetts for entering the 21st century.
The twenty-first century! Imagine if you were a being who had been around in the first? The second? The fifth, tenth, ninth, twelfth, eighteenth, nineteenth, sixteenth, and everything in between? I guess that’s (partly) what history does: allows us to imagine. Puts some constraints up (timelines, events), but what we then highlight and focus on speaks volumes about our imaginative-mental health. So many mazes, so many mistakes possible, too: bad ideas, lousy interpretations leading to present-day atrocities or quagmires. It’s all so interesting.
Tomorrow very early we have to drive A. to Logan – and it’s going to be so bitterly cold in Montreal, I’m worried for him. Maybe it’s because I realize with each advancing year that these weather extremes are terribly difficult to handle (not for him so much – he’s young). So, again: do we really stay here?