Slow Go

Last night: My wife was ill, downing prescription drugs, and sleeping on the sofa. 

The dog stared at me. "We're not going for a walk," I said. I'd driven to another city for a board meeting for a community group. Upon returning, I was engulfed by the mood to do as little as possible. The dog listened to my lengthy explanation then wandered off thinking - no doubt - a simple no would have sufficed.

I was in bed by eight. A character in a novel by Peter De Vries had the habit of hibernating every winter. He'd retreat to his bedroom to sleep and read comic books until the weather improved, During his retreat, he would emerge occasionally to eat pancakes.

The weather here is fine but sometimes I envy that man.