Sunday, February 5th

Yes, I know there was no entry yesterday. Not my fault. The snow that started falling Thursday night continued falling all day Friday, leading inevitably to one or more trees on the island collapsing under its weight and falling on a power line. Yesterday morning I woke up to a power outage. It lasted all day. The semi-functioning generator functioned for half an hour – long enough for me to make a cappuccino and fill the dish bowl with hot, soapy water. I only left the house to go to the woodshed and bring up more wood than I can spare, including precious arbutus, maple and cherry. Fortunately I had a good book (the fourth and final novel in Elana Ferrante’s Naples series).

It did rain overnight, so the snow has disappeared from the trees now, but it’s still inches deep on the ground. I’m having flashbacks to the accident, afraid to drive in the snow (without snow tires) lest there be another catastrophe. I know this is a bit silly. After all, I made it through the awful winter of 2008/09, when it snowed and snowed and snowed, with no snow tires on the old Echo. I just drove carefully. It was fine. Now I’m wracked with anxiety. I haven’t left the property since I got home from Thursday’s rehearsal.

I have another rehearsal this afternoon. Fortunately, with snow in the forecast, I asked Charlie on Thursday if he could give me a lift today. Yesterday I confirmed this. Thing is, I have things to do. I need to pick up the scripts for Thursday’s audition. I’m nearly out of drinking water and completely out of coffee. I can’t ask Charlie to drive me all over the island. (Well, I could  but I’d feel awful about doing so.) Besides, it could be days before the snow on the driveway and on the side roads melts. I have to get out sometime. Question is, can I face doing it today?

Whether or not I can, there is a bit of physical exertion required before I can go anywhere. I need to get the snow shovel out and clear the end of the drive where the plough has deposited an impenetrable barrier. Well, at least that will make up for not getting to the gym since Wednesday.

And that, dear reader, is it for today. I know it’s not much, but it has been the minimum of fifteen minutes and – blimey – you got thousands of words out of me on Friday. I wrote (with short breaks for breakfast and lunch) for seven hours. A bloody marathon, reminiscent of my novel writing days. Fantastic to know I am still capable of pouring that many words on a page. Now, if I only had a plot…