Mercifully, yesterday’s drive was only eleven hours.
I had been so scared of the weather report that I’d seriously debated taking my truck. I figured the bad alternator would be charged on the drive and we’d be much safer in the big truck in a blizzard. However, my mechanic friend D nixed the idea. His vocabulary is limited but expressive. “That alternator shits out on you, you’re gonna be fucked.” He could tell from my silence on the phone that I had no idea what he was talking about. “Headlights’d drain the battery,” he said impatiently. “Truck would go dead on the road.” Oh.
So I headed out in the little Honda, fingers gripping the wheel. To my relief the worst of the predicted storm passed us by. I drove in and out of snow squalls all the way to New Hampshire, but the drive home was mostly clear. This morning it is a gorgeous blue day and -15°.
I’ve decided to give myself the gift of a day at home. I have slept so little for the past week that I am going to try to simply do my usual 2.5 hours of barn chores and otherwise have a restful day cleaning, changing beds, baking bread, folding laundry, and tackling a little of the mountain of paperwork desperately awaiting my attention.
Oh, yes, and enjoying my girl!
DH has emailed that he may be able to leave the city early and get back tonight.
A perfect day.