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Winter’s grip weakens.

After sub-zero temperatures, we woke to warm forty degree weather. Perhaps the spell is broken.

I’d better get those seeds ordered.
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I winterized the motorhome.
It had to happen. It’s going to freeze solid. Temperatures are dropping below zero.

I did the usual stuff. Holding tanks. Water lines.

There is more to do though. The water goes other places. There is a washing machine. There is an ice maker. I did it all. There is pink stuff everywhere. I shut the heat off.

For a day and a night.

Then I went out to touch it. It was too cold. It just wasn’t right. I turned the heat back on. We’ll pay the propane bill.
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I’m a mope. I’m a horrible mope.
I’m not glad at all to be home. I’d rather be on the road.

I haven’t yet figured out how to concentrate at work.

Racquetball doesn’t even seem that important.

I remember now that this happens after every extended January trip.

We’ve been home a week. I forget how long this lasts.