In June 2013 I moved to countryside with my elderly aunt to run a "Grannysitting Expedition".
During this time I have been taken pictures more or less constantly. I'll be posting these picture chronicles one week at the time. In December 2013 we had to relocate to town for a while - I'll be doing my best to keep up the weekly picture chronicles. Previous week is in this post.
The following moments are from January 13 - 19, and January 20- 26
A cold wave arrived and eliminated the "would there be any snow?" from the daily discussions list. Added bonus for me: basic workout without having to wander too far. (It had been quite clear from the get-go that regular town life would not offer the level of physical activity I'd become used to. So, looking for available ass-moving options, I'd promptly volunteered for the snow duty.) Sweeping a broom in the manner of wielding a scythe proved to be super effective. The cold wave also meant increased need for heating, meaning increased need for firewood, meaning more regular trips outdoors. I'd once again have to deal with the "what if there's work" challenge, trying to accommodate focused thinking-writing time to the available (and wishful) timeslots in my schedule. Around this time I started to invite the auntie along to the shower room to "assist" and watch me bathe (This would become relevant later).
Our morning routine had settled to the following pattern. Auntie wakes and quietly does stuff on her own at the vague time before eight-ish (I start hearing little everyday sounds: an apple being cut and munched on, water running in the kitchen sink, various items being moved around, squeezing the lotion bottle, the 'click-snap' of the pocket mirror, footsteps and shuffling, coffee tin being taken into launch position). Around eight thirty she wakes me, asking for the morning medicine; once I've handed it out, I open up the kitchen stove damper so that she could start up the fire (I've mostly entrusted the stove operating to her now - with some discreet supervision and failsafes of course). I will then tuck right back in and attempt to ignore the awaken world - I usually manage to doze off and miss the part where she goes after the cat, but cannot sustain the ignorant bliss past the of turning on the radio. I combine toothbrushing with a little weatherwatching stroll outside - the only morning ritual I've somewhat carried along from the countryside. Back inside, I set a bowl of one or another porridge material to stew on stovetop and begin the Grand Coffemaking Ritual. It involves a set of repeating steps that I sometimes shake up a bit, adding sneaky short-term memory usage ("how many cups of water did we have, again?") and fine-motoric challenges ("could you fish out one filter from the box?") here and there; we each have our designated tasks. Once the coffee is done, we have breakfast together. After that checking the stove, see what's happening outside the windows (bird life, especially); then some explorations around the house (since our "town sandbox" is basically an enclave within others' territory, my job to encourage the explorations includes keeping them contained - fortunately my old room/study is just about perfect as a secondaty observation deck). Once we're done with the Outdoors Agenda of the Day, I might be able to sneak in some computer time (while remaining watchful).