For a day when we haven't left the house, this has been a really busy day. In no particular order: We cleaned the house. We got a new stove delivered (but not hooked up - long story). We watched part of an Indiana Jones movie. We had lunch. We started doing laundry. We cleared some of the snow/ice off the sidewalks ("some" is as good as we could do at this point).
After we had the new stove in the house, and we were both inside and doing more cleaning/tidying/laundering, Christopher turned on the stereo and so we've been doing our work with a musical accompaniment. We've been chatting and scratching the pup and looking outside at the brilliant sun on the snow, and, somewhere along the way, I realized how much this feels like a weekend day when I was growing up.
Okay, so my parents had a drug store, and my dad was out of the house on Saturdays when most of the housecleaning was getting done. And most of the hanging out at home with the whole family was done on Sundays. But the combined effect is the same.
I think this is possibly enhanced by the fact that we're awaiting the arrival of a family friend (making her way carefully up the apparently-unfriendly roads), and tomorrow my folks will be making their way up here, as well (hopefully on less-unfriendly roads once the road chemicals have had some extra time to work).
At any rate, the feeling is there. The rare "this feels right" kind of feeling that is so hard to grasp. You'll forgive me if I wrap this up and enjoy it before it flits away.
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