The Winter's Always Long

This morning I was all set to go out busking.

Then I looked at the thermometer.

Minus twenty-two.

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Oh well. I would have only had a brief window of opportunity anyway, between getting the kids off to school and having Calla home for lunch.

As I puttered around the house, I found myself working on song ideas. I find they're constantly going through my head; I work on songs the way other people work on crossword puzzles. Here's a lyric I came up with:

Why's it so surprising

We still have to be strong?

The sun is slowly rising

The winter's always long.

I think that would be a good song to sing in the subway.

Then again, when the winter's long, I'm not there.

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In the afternoon, I went to a doctor's appointment to see what's going on with my back. (In case you're curious, what's going on is "degenerative disc disease", which sounds dire enough to send me right back to bed. Why don't they make up a more cheery name, like "spirited spine" or something? Anyway, my back's a lot better these days, despite its depressing description, and I'm feeling almost back to normal.)

My doctor is located in a hospital in the city's West End. When I arrived there early, I discovered a new Second Cup near the main entrance. All the chairs in the little restaurant were taken, so I found a seat in the lobby.

As I watched the people milling around in this vestibule, with its shiny marble floor and 50's architecture, it felt oddly familiar.

I felt a strange urge to stand up and sing something.

(Fortunately, the Second Cup was playing Lyle Lovett, so I was able to hum discreetly.)

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My doctor was very excited to hear about my busking.

A bit apologetically, I admitted that I haven't been going out much over the past few weeks, because it's been so cold.

"Well, I should hope not!" she said.