After a wonderful evening with my friend Jenny Rosen and a long if light sleep, I pad around the house wondering what I should do to prepare for the ice storm.  I don’t have a battery-powered cell phone charger if such a contraption exists.  I’ve got plenty of food and would most miss the ability to blog if I have to spend a few days without electricity.  The medicine cabinet holds most of the drugs I need to beat back the viruses.

I’ll survive if the roads keep me indoors and I have to write on a legal pad by candlelight.  I’ve got plenty of blankets.

But wait:  How will I brew coffee?

Ah yes.  As long as I am able to light the burners on the stove, I’ve got that covered, too.  I chortle and congratulate myself for kicking the automatic coffee maker habit and going pour-over.  It’s these simple pleasures in life which invigorate us:  A cup of coffee, a book, the lilting voice of a friend encouraging our efforts, the chatter of cold rain on a roof which does not leak.

It’s not much, but it’s so much more than many can claim.  Some days I yearn for more, for what has been forfeit, for what I wanted.  But today, what I have is enough.  I do not understand the wax and wane of contentment.  I do not pretend to control these emotions.  I merely wrap myself in the soft folds of peacefulness when it comes my way and hold on tight as long as I can.

It’s the thirteenth day of the thirty-seventh month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

I keep it warm on an electric burner but that’s expendable. Stay safe, everyone. Winter threatens.