It's All About The Nap

Misty, some light rain, and cold.  The only things warm in the barn were the udders.  The play yard gate was opened and the big coop door was closed.  Not the most pleasant of mornings.  Back at the house, fingers and toes chilled to the bone, I punched up the fire and made a hot drink before settling into my chair.  Bess had gone out with me and was as cold as I and she pushed her way onto the chair so we could warm each other, a living lap rug.  Soon we were snoozing happily, waking only when the fire had died down.  It was a day for piddly chores, consolidating leftover leftovers (like loaves and fishes, they seem to multiply), doing dishes, and keeping the fire stoked.  Another quick nap in the afternoon before putting the girls inside for the night.  Camille called on her way home from town and I warned her about the fog, dense enough that I could barely see the road in front of the pasture.  She called later to say that there had been no fog until she was almost home and that we must be in a low-lying cloud bank.  Yet another turkey sandwich for dinner (five days' worth of turkey and I think I could fly) and yet another nap before bedtime.  It's all about the nap.