Not only are the many tasks and challenges of Christmas 2017 accomplished and fulfilled as of today, but I have been gifted further with a head cold. What bliss, this permission!
To follow my compass, through this pile of books, then the next, and watch the stash of bookmarks dwindle. To leaf through an article in The New Yorker about film in 2017, and then another in Briar Patch Magazine about decolonialization in Canada. Then sit, thoughtfully, inside the challenging cultural moment of right now.
Yes. We change our minds. Yes. This is difficult.
To watch a Netflix series I would never otherwise attempt, for lack of time and brain space, called The Keepers, which resonates with everything written in those two articles, and adds yet another dimension. I’m glad I stayed with it to the conclusion.
I have by now filled one large grocery bag with used kleenex. I decide to start another bag rather than empty this one, just so I can see the visual manifestation of how many times I had to empty my nose, after it stops dripping. Feels like this will be tomorrow sometime, but you never know how long the christmas cold gift will last.
Could be two more days like this? I cross my fingers.
In between there’s other puttery – a few dishes, sorting reusable gift bags from those that have lost all practical function, setting the mouse trap again. Putting the edge pieces of the puzzle together, sorting the rest into colours. Laundry, a few more dishes, freeze the leftover bison stew.
To my car, thank you for reliable 20 hours on the road this past week. Joni Mitchell and David Yaffe, Christopher Tolkein (now 90-ish), Siri Hustvedt, Elena Ferrante (whoever you are), Patrick Rothfuss, Carl Jung, thank you for your fierce, furious, compassionate work. And of course my family and friends – thank you too for excellent memories and belly laughs that still echo in the house and in other houses, with rich promise of more.
It’s a good christmas.