Cold and Raining

 Almost midnight.  Almost didn't write today. I'm more inclined to do a "brain dump" on my bad days, and this was one of my good days.  About once a week now Ebaida and I do a facetime chat.  Today we watched an episode of Endeavour, and also a clip of Rik Mayall from JC Superstar.  Talked about a lot of stuff.  As in watched shows and talked for over 3 hours.  Oops.

Otherwise just sort of putzed around - but I did get my walk in, and some stretching.  That's two of the many things that slip during the doldrums, along with housework.  So I seem to be coming out of it.  Got some wool prepped for spinning.  Watched a few more episodes of Discovery of Witches.  Which doesn't sound like much, but oddly for the last year and a half (as in "since I came home") I very rarely watch full shows, much less whole seasons.  Mostly just youtube videos.

It's raining tonight, but for some reason I'm not enjoying it.  Maybe because it's made me slightly nervous since the bedroom ceiling fell in when the roof leaked.  In 2020.  The roof was repaired immediately but I still haven't fixed the hole in the ceiling.  Maybe I'd feel better if I did that.  More likely it's because the temperature is also dropping (supposed to be 34 tonight) and I feel badly for my cold wet peacocks (although they seem to handle it all right - I've seen them fly down in the mornings with frost on their feathers)

I think I'm still bothered by so many things undone.  I haven't worked on Bob's room in a couple of months.  Have barely touched the barn.  I've talked to other people who have been in this situation, and read articles on it, and usually there is a statement of "X came over - we laughed, we cried, we went through stuff.  I wanted to stop but X kept me going."  I seem to be lacking an X person.  I doubt if I would want one.  Bob was such a private person and I feel badly enough looking through his stuff without letting someone else do it.  But there's a limit to how much I can do before I hear his voice saying  - in a very annoyed tone - "would you *please* stop throwing my stuff away!"  He used to get so annoyed when I threw anything away - often checked the trash (except when I firmly told him not to.)  And any time I had problem finding something (because I'm not a neat and organized person) he would often say "oh, you probably threw it away."   I remember one time having a storage bin in the closet labeled "Crap that Bob thinks Ann Should Keep."  (That has been thrown away, along with a lot of my stuff - I feel OK getting rid of my stuff; it's rather liberating).

Good - that turned into a brain dump ramble.  Off to bed.