...writing for most of the day with a cat on my lap asleep and the rest of the house quiet. The kind of day where I can take a long bubble bath, while reading a new book, and then get all my laundry done in between writing sessions. The sort of afternoon where I exceed my word count for the day and just keep going because the story is flowing so well. The phone isn't ringing like mad with perceived crises in five states. My email is oddly empty, considering I've been averaging thirty real emails a day for the past few weeks.
What a fantastic day. The new 76" cat tree I ordered even came in today. Unfortunately, the box weighs a ton and I can't get it into the house. Oh well. That means the cat on the lap contentment for another afternoon until the husband gets home, carts it in and puts it together.
It's bitterly cold outside--like maybe 10 degrees--but the big snow and ice storm is tracking south and we'll only get sideswiped by it. Maybe a couple of inches of snow, that's all. That's great anyway--it makes the silence out here in the middle of a national forest reserve a lot more crystalline and pure. It means I'll go outside tonight, bundled up in my coat and gloves and scarves, and actually be able to hear the whisper of snow sifting down upon the trees and the ground.
One of my favorite sounds in the world. Some people would call it silence; I call it symphonic.
So now a nice big cup of hot chocolate, a piece of vanilla cake (because I'm just like that) and back to a writing surge that reaffirms my love of telling a story. Let's see where my afternoon of near perfect contentment leads me.
And to the weather gods--if you want to send the storm further north, that's fine by me. I can assemble the cat tree and hang out right beside it while they perch on it and play on it and stalk the birds on the other side of the window glass who are gorging themselves at the bird feeder. I'll strike you a deal--I'll make sure the birds are fed and you can dump a foot of snow on my house. That way, everyone's happy.
I won't even let the cats out after them. It's a promise.