This is that time of year when I start to go downhill. It was just July when it didn't get dark around here until almost 9 PM. Now, we're lucky if there is a sliver of light after 6 PM. That's a loss of three hours of time working in the garden or sitting on the patio with a good book or taking a leisurely walk without stumbling over an uneven crack in the sidewalk or being sideswiped by a biker because it's so damn dark.
I don't like dark. Nope, not even on Halloween. To be honest, I pretty much hate Halloween. I've put in my years costuming my son when he was young and then sitting on the front porch and handing out a revolving selection of candy, oohing and ahhing at the little witches and cartoon figures and TV stars, wishing after twenty minutes that I could turn off the house lights, close the shades and hide out in front of the TV. Actually, this year with Covid, I can and will do exactly that which may the only good thing I have to say about the Pandemic.
But I digress. Back to the light; in this case, the dark. With every day that passes, I try to lap all the light I can. I try not to think ahead and what's about to descend upon those of us who live in the north. If I could only take my city lock, stock, and barrel and move it to warmer climes. Fat chance. So, I'm stuck. (In years past, my husband and I have taken off to Mexico for two months. But that nasty Pandemic has squashed those plans as well.)
So, it's time to find that goLite Blu of mine. But where the hell is it? I remember taking it down to the basement and shoving it under a pile of blankets to muffle the sound of the alarm that I couldn't seem to turn off. And I remember having bought a new stand so I could put the light on my office desk and stare into the full-spectrum light that the PR material "promised" could
make me all happy and energetic like the Energizer Bunny. I do love the way the bunny does his little dance and wish I had the energy to make those moves all winter long.
Miracle of miracles. I found my light in a desk drawer in my office. I don't remember putting it there for safekeeping; my latest memory is of wanting to crush it under my feet like a Jewish groom smashing a glass to conclude a wedding ceremony before kissing the bride. ("You may kiss the bride?" Why not, "You may kiss the groom?" Okay, I'm off topic AGAIN.)
The alarm on my goLite Blu still doesn't work, and I can't set the clock. Other than that, I'm ready to roll. I guess. I know I should crank up the thing for my own good, but I sure would rather head to Mexico.
If it's going to be chilly if not downright freezing in your neck of the wood come oh, I don't know, any day now (There are snowflakes falling as I write,) you may have been one of the thousands and thousands of Americans who bought a patio heater and/or a fire pit. Ignoring my husband's consternation, I bought both. I mean, if the experts are saying that we shouldn't have people in our homes this winter, what are we supposed to do? Zoom until our computers crash? Crawl into little balls and hibernate like our big, furry friends, the bears? Well, I refuse to let the Pandemic completely ruin my social life, such as it is.
We followed all the safety precautions and had one of our favorite couples over for dinner last Saturday night. We did a test run with the fire pit first and excluding the gusts of 30 mph winds that blew smoke all over the neighborhood, we managed just fine. Didn't even need the heater. It was maybe a low of 50 degrees.
So, the other day my husband and I donned winter jackets and headed outside in the late afternoon for the heater's test run. Not so impressive, and I spent a sh_____ load on it. Maybe my husband was right. I should have saved my money to give to the hungry.
But I'm not giving up. I figure if we have the fire pit and heater working together we might be able to be outside until the temperature dips into the upper 30s.
If I buy a pair of PrimaLoft overalls, I should be in good shape.
Hmm . . . I don't think so!