The Peak

The morning was cold and well, early. Up at 5:00-ish while the rest of the family sleeps in, the day starts with more dark then light and off and on the road by 6:30. The inside thermometer in the car reads, "4." I blink and think maybe I looked too quickly, maybe it really says 9. Nope, 4.

At work, at my desk and off and running by 7:15. Bleck. Half an hour later, the alarms are going crazy and a building that is also still rubbing the morning sleep away must be evacuated. Co-workers who start at different times arrive among firetrucks and police cars. Must have been tempting for them to just leave.

We joke about making a coffee run or a breakfast run and are told it was possibly a gas leak that set off the alarm. "Maybe we will be sent home," we hope.

Eventually the trucks leave and we receive the all clear signal. Everyone drudges back inside. Back to work.

The cold stays within many of us and it feels like exactly what it is, a cold January Monday, the start of a full long week.

The minutes tick past and with each time I check the clock, I swear it must have stopped. This is the longest, coldest day ever. Finally, it is time to go and I remember I have to get gas. Ugggh. The drive home is uneventful without any memorable occurrences of road rage or other noteworthy happenings.

Home. Home to make dinner without a stove. The recent power surge that blew up our stove and oven has yet to be resolved. Steps must be taken, appointments must be made for a repairman to assess the damage and either agree the unit cannot be repaired, that the motherboard is too expensive or other course of action. In the meantime, the grill and microwave are our friends. But, I am still cold from the morning and rapidly wilting with near exhaustion.

I have learned to boil water in an electric tea pot, pour it in a pot with dry pasta (egg noodles tonight) and cover with a lid so the pasta cooks. I grill some meat and saute mushrooms in a pan. Last night's mixed grilled veggies on the side make it seem like a planned menu rather than a hodge podge of kitchen tricks. The last of the meal is consumed, the conversation trailing off and my husband, a wonderful and understanding man (who had the day off) says, "Go, go put on your pajamas." I wanted to cry in the moment of fabulousness.