Barbara J. Hamby

Let it Melt, Pleeeaaase

It’s not like I don’t have plenty of things to do indoors, it’s like I’m sick of them. Looking out the window at the same white scenery has limited appeal.

Today I tried to transfer a hundred plus pictures from my digital camera to the computer. I’m not only mechanically challenged, I’m electronically challenged and even resorting to RTFM was very little help. I have the first 18 pictures in photo gallery and the computer refuses to see the rest of them. Not only that, I can’t figure out how to get those out of photo gallery and into the Pictures file. I sense a consultation with my son-in-law on the horizon when we can see the horizon again.

Before that botched job, I moved about a hundred photos into folders in my Pictures file, and deleted at least another hundred that had been duplicated by one of my technical errors, I imagine. I have a hundred more of those to go. Tomorrow is another day—another blank blank snow day, they are warning us.

I’m fighting a cranky mood. Probably a session of Qi Gong would help, and I may do that after dinner. I haven’t been to the pool since Friday and I’m in severe withdrawal. Fortunately dinner is already cooked. The chicken stew just needs to be reheated; the crock pot did its work a day or so ago in preparation for a possible power failure.

I discovered that I saved one pair of boots when I gave the rest away, but they aren’t tall enough for this snow. The rubber waders I gave up would be much better. If it’s icy and slick, I wouldn’t be out anyway, boots or no boots. I have great leather gloves lined with fuzz, and a couple of really warm coats, if conditions improve enough to venture outdoors during Christmas. That doesn’t seem likely, however.

However, I’m so much better off than those who have to get to work one way or another, or can’t and are losing pay at the worst time of the year. So, I guess I should quit griping.