"Almost tangibly, dust seemed to be settling on events that would always be a part of my life; it was as though they were being torn from me -- from my generation -- and converted into mere history, remote and receding."
[Back in Virginia's commonplace book.]
I got in around eight-thirty o'clock last night, in the rain. It was especially nice to see wife, son and granddaughter. Now I have to make the shift to being back home. I seem never able to do the stuff stuff, i.e., get the bags organized to be ready for next time. Doing now what is so much easier than then. I have to learn not to take more than or other than what I have to have. For example, I have about thirty various t-shirts in the cabin, so I don't need to bring more. Also two pair of jeans are already there. That kind of stuff. I could lighten the load, if I were smarter now.
I got lots of rest at the lake, double naps of hours length. I never needed anything to help me fall asleep, no matter how many times I awoke in the night. The air is as crisp and invigorating inside the cabin as outside. I read over eleven books and watched a batch of movies on dvd. I absolutely minimized my trips to Eau Claire, which always take up a full day, in the nature of hour trips.
I even got my new pair of Brooks Beast up in Rice Lake rather than in Eau Claire, so I am shoed (or shod) for the year.
My routine is very pleasant to me. I make my own cheerios about a third of the mornings and sit at the kitchen table listen to the birds. The other days I go into town for breakfast. I do go to Bob's and also to Mary's (the Secret Cafe), but most mornings I eat at Norm's, where there is a $4.95 special (two eggs, bacon or sausage, toast and coffee) served by Maggie, the waitress that Greg and I like so much. Then I go to the Post Office and and either the library or Jitters for wi-fi. After that morning experience, the day lies before me so beautiful so various so new. And I think of ways to fill up the hours. Sigh.