For the past two nights, I have been totally alone in my house. Tom went on an ice fishing trip to Red Lake (fishing trip number 947, according to the wife calculator).
My Christmas company—my sister, my brother-in-law, my niece, my two daughters, my son-in-law—have all gone home.
I don’t even have an anti-social cat in the house to keep me company any more. (Rest in peace, little Hobie.)
I have played dominos and had pizza with my former teaching buddies.
I have cleaned the house from top to bottom.
I have washed seven loads of laundry, including three loads of sheets and two loads of towels.
I have visited my folks. Twice.
I have exchanged Tom’s Christmas gift that needed to be exchanged.
I walked on the treadmill—two miles yesterday and four miles today.
I have read my book.
I have taken down Christmas decorations.
I have watched two movies.
Man, this house seems big and empty when I’m here all alone. I keep thinking I hear the cat, but how can I hear the cat when there’s no cat and those can’t possibly be cat noises?
So I decided to send these New Year’s greetings to you--to keep my mind off the cat noises that aren't really there.
I colored these pictures myself with markers I found when I was cleaning out a drawer. I think the markers are about 100 years old. Did they make colored markers in 1909?
If you like, you can print these out and hang them on your refrigerator to make your kitchen look more festive.
I think it’s lucky I’m leaving to spend the New Year in the Twin Cities. I believe when a 61-year-old woman starts sitting at the kitchen table, coloring pictures all by herself, in an empty house full of imaginary cat noises, it’s time for a change of scenery . . .