Sunday, November 27, 2016
drawing the curtain on fall
I woke up this morning to feel a chill in the house. The Nest on the dining room wall, unlike the Nest in the picture, is set at Cooling 64. What the hell does that mean? I have an app on my phone to control it but since I have a new phone, I don't have the password. The front door was wide open, too. Nothing missing...just the maladjusted Nest. Seems like an odd thing for a burglar to do.
I got a good start on cleaning up the detritus of fall yesterday but I felt the urge for a nap about 2 o'clock and I am not one to resist so that was it. I was done.
I noticed on our way out for dinner that a lot of people have holiday lights up already. That sort of goes against my grain. I like to have the turkeys in the basement before Santa makes an appearance. But they are cheerful and they help move me toward a lighter space. It has been dark and gloomy the past week.
I did spend some time last night making a Christmas playlist on Spotify. Since every Christmas album ever made (Think Michael Buble and Lady Gaga.) are on Spotify, it took a while. I lean more toward Perry Como, Andy Williams, and Dean Martin. Old, dead, white guys. Haha.
So, the movies are ready, the music is ready, and the picture frame of holidays past is ready. It's my motivation to draw the curtain on fall. This metaphor might be a tad dramatic for dragging a box of plastic turkeys and pumpkins to my messy basement but whatever works.
I spent some time yesterday looking at used books. My friend, Michele, recommended the Flavia de Luce series by Alan Bradley to me as more light-hearted mysteries. I think I need to get out of the underbelly of Edinborough for a while. When I wake up screaming because bad guys are chasing me, it might be time for a new genre. I found four of them on Thriftbooks for 13 bucks with free shipping.
I have a big pot of turkey stock that I might reduce down and make into soup today. Other than that, I am weary of left-overs. Remnants of autumn. Green bean casserole and cranberries. Blech.