Being sensible

I made a comment on yesterday's post about remembering my age and being sensible, and today I kept reminding myself to do just that. The snow that fell yesterday and during the night - not much, but a covering - had frozen overnight, so my first sight was this rather pleasingly dramatic one of the fiery pre-sunrise glow in the eastern sky above the whiteness of our neighbours' garden (it's a shared block, so it's a big bit of grass). I had already decided it would be foolish to attempt my customary pre-breakfast shopping, so was more relaxed about getting up than I would normally be.

That, by the way, was me being sensible. When I went out, dressed like Nanook of the North in my biggest puffa jacket and fleece leggings (I think I've had them for over 20 years!) with Celtic sheepskin boots, I found Himself busy defrosting the car - how we miss the heated windscreen of the Kuga! - because the windscreen was solid ice and very resistant. He then came with me in an act of solidarity (or because he didn't trust me to negotiate the snowy lane safely) and shared with me the random crates in the aisles and the chats with other people, known and unknown, that seem to happen every time I go outwith the early slot. 

Later I went down the road to drop off a prescription request, and that was it - I wasn't out again. Sleet showers came and went, and before we knew it it was dark again. I made a couple of phone calls, sent off some emails and texts, and tried to find Christmas present ideas. It was at once stressful and boring and I wished I was away up a snowy glen - but I was Being Sensible. This sits ill with someone who used to hurl herself with flair and abandon onto icy slides in the school playground and cursed the janny when he put salt on them before 11am playtime - I can still remember that sense of wild exhilaration as I did so. 

Talking of stress - I realised last night that my brain was whirring so fast that even when I managed to get to sleep (some time after 2am) I had my teeth pressed together so tightly that the upper ones ached all day from the pressure. 

Note to self: Relax!