When I arrived home from work at Friday evening, sore of foot and spirit, I heard a “Pfffft!” as I stepped onto my porch. I looked down, and my frog faucet was spritzing the steps. Denial is sometimes the best tactic and so I hoped that it might just fix itself and be all gone in the morning. I just went in the house, ignoring the icy mess. I had planned to start some NYT bread for the next day (this takes all of five minutes) but I simply did not have the energy wherewithal to do it. So I did the sensible thing, and went directly to bed. The next morning, Rebecca had come to pick some sage for the dinner she was cooking, and after cheering me greatly by letting me know she had made me some tea and fed the household vermin, she said, “Your faucet is going ‘Pffft!’” Denial that is OK at midnight is not always OK in the morning, so I called my friend Ken, ever reliable in hour of need, and he came, despite a migraine, and fixed the leak caused by a hole in the pipe caused by my neglectfulness as a householder. We tested the other faucets, and when we turned on one which was attached to a hose, these little ice worms shot out – water frozen in the hose.
I had planned to make some scones for breakfast, but when I finally got to them it was three in the afternoon. My aunt Dakki called, and asked what we were doing. “Eating breakfast,” I said. She was shocked. As soon as Tom and I finished breakfast, we started dinner, and that was a lovely meal – manicotti, green beans, and citrus salad. My aunt enjoyed it too. Afterwards we watched Farinelli, a movie full of passion, music, and passionate music – a nice combination, me being passionate about music and all.