Last night, Mrs Elliott and I returned from a six-night car trip down to Sacramento area via 97 to Weed, and down I-5, and then back up following a route through the wine country to the coast and up to Florence, where we turned inland and drove directly to Bend.
I may write more about the trip tomorrow or soon, but what I want to write about at this moment is sock changing day.
Yes, sock-changing day; a day which occurs twice a year with the change of the seasons, for Jack has but a small bedside dresser for his folded clothes, his undies and socks; and Jack likes plenty of socks, so poor Jack is unable to keep both the warm season socks (the cotton ones) and the cold season socks (those of wool) in the drawer at the same time. There just isn't room.
Thus sock-changing day, a day where the out-of-season socks are replaced with the in-season ones.
Going back to last weekend, the weather forecast predicted a week of not dangerously low freezing temps, so I saw I didn't need to worry about sprinkler pipes yet. But those of you who live here know the value of the local weather forecasts. So instead of the promised non-sprinkler-pipe-threatening weather, Bend was seeing temperatures predominately below freezing.
Seeing this, I was moved to place a call to our sprinkler winterizing guy to request a prompt blowout. I didn't arrange for it before we left because it just seemed too early to shut off the plant irrigation and it could wait until after we returned; so yes, I played chicken with the weather. And though I won (no frozen pipes or sprinklers), it was a costly victory in terms of energy-sapping worrying while getting the job lined up.
Back to now: We're home, and the house has picked up some chill.
There's this window in the living room where the double-paned glazed window has been removed and replaced with a thin sheet of acrylic with an incredibly heavy air conditioner poking through. That needs to be winterized by re-installing the window for winter. There's the fact that the outside air is much colder now than when we left; and we cannot overlook the importance that Daylight Saving Time is packing its valise for tomorrow morning's departure. Like a dear lifelong friend, DST promises, as always, to return next year.
Jack's no fool and can read the signs. So cotton socks are OUT, woolens are IN. The out of season socks live in a nylon duffle bag in the garage, awaiting the return of the warm season. I hope DST doesn't also have to live in a nylon duffle bag.
Going backward to catch up. - Worked at the store yesterday, my first full day in a long while. It was fun and exhausting. The thing I noticed is,we don't seem to be at the forefront of...
5 hours ago