September Morn

I wake up this morning and turn on the Weather Channel to find out why it feels so good to hunker down under the quilt and why my right hand, the only part of my body other than forehead that is exposed to the air, is ice-cold. It is 59 degrees! Well, that explains it. I haven’t gotten into the winter habit of closing the windows at night. When you live in the country you open all the windows on cool nights and by the time morning rolls around, the house is as cool as a cucumber. If you quickly shut all the windows and pull the shades, you can keep the house cool for the better part of the day. It saves money on air-conditioning and forms a nice pattern of anal-retentive behavior that you can use to aggravate the rest of your family. “Open the window!” “Close the window!” And so on until they hate you. The trick occurs when the seasons change. Suddenly the temperature drops too low and the heat kicks on! “Close the windows! Close the windows! What do you think I have; stock in the oil company?”

My husband has taken his book and his cup of coffee and has gone out on the front porch to warm up. Correction: he’s back. “It’s freezing out there!” The wind is blowing the leaves that will soon turn brilliantly orange, yellow and red and then fall to the ground forcing us into manual labor worthy of a chain gang. For weeks now the acorns have been landing on the back deck and roof like tiny bombs. You can’t go outside without a hard-hat. Left unattended, this place could be swallowed by the forest in a few short seasons.

The Weather Channel lady is giddy as she reminds us that tomorrow is Friday. I used to love that word: “Friday”. It meant two whole days without school. When I got older and had to take jobs I didn’t like, it meant two whole days to myself. When you work in the theatre, “Friday” means four to five more performances until you can eat dinner at a normal hour. Now, weekends are a holding pattern, not a vacation. Now it is “Monday” that looms like a bright spot of possibility on your calendar; the day when people might open the resumes you mailed and maybe return the calls you placed. To the unemployed, “Friday” is just one more marker on the road to the grave.

Have a nice weekend.