D-Day has been called on account of freezing rain — a large and very foul weather system has covered the Ottawa Valley from Pembroke to Hawkesbury. It’s also garbage day, and I expect a journey down the driveway that will look more like tightrope-walking than my usual progress to the street to recover my recycle box.
The contents of the kitchen cabinets are stacked on the dining table and a six-foot folding work table Brother Andrew helped me set up in the sitting room yesterday. (With a poncho liner draped over it, the load in the sitting room looks not unlike a body laid out for a wake.) The refrigerator has yet to be emptied, but that will take about five minutes. The immediate perishables will go to Andrew’s house, and the rest will be okay in a cooler.
SIL No 1 has generously agreed to give me breakfast and supper for the duration, and the pub will do for lunch. At least I can sleep in my own bed.
Speaking of sleep, I’ll have to set an alarm to wake me up as long as the cats are away. Today I didn’t even crack an eyelid until a quarter to eight. Watson would never let that happen.