Not usually, but Mrs. Boss is off skiing in Colorado with family so I'm working. Fortunately Mr. Boss will work tomorrow or we'll be closed, working on Sunday would be just too much. Maybe some vacationers will be in to cut the boredom. There's always knitting and catching up on TV watching on the computer. I didn't turn the TV on once in the motel so I missed some of "my shows." I hate that I've gotten caught up in shows, I think it somehow indicates weakness of mind or a lack of interest in things. But I arrange my nights around them so I'm evidently not too bothered by it.
I was happy to be at The Clearing in winter for a few hours. It's so different from the verdant look of it in summer (well, duh) with the leafless undergrowth that lets you see through the grounds and down to the water from the breezeway and it's even quieter. I do confess that I rang the bell...more than once. Just to hear it before July. But now I'm home and back to reality. Speaking of which, I need a shower if I want not to offend any stray customer that comes in.
February 26--Paul Gauguin, The Siesta. The children hated nap time. They'd play with their food. They'd resist washing their hands and faces. They'd drag their feet and pleas for one more story, but I was firm. Even when they swore they were way too old to nap, I allowed that they could stretch out in a breeze from the window and read, most days they slept. there would be a bit of whispering and giggling but soon all would be quiet. I made a glass of tea or lemonade and rested myself on the screened porch. There was a squeaky old ceiling fan out there that chopped the still and humid air into manageable chunks and I'd read or write a poem. Those afternoons were the epitome of civilization, an oasis in the clamor of the summer that kept me sane. All up and down the block quiet descended as, one by one, children disappeared into their homes to rest and mothers emerged with a paperback and a cold drink to court sanity for another day.
Ah, naps. What a lovely invention, don't you think? I'm off.