Very good.

 .

.

Still a bit too tired.  But better.  I wasn't able to sleep, then I remembered to turn the heat down.  Still wasn't working.  Did a quick... personal check.  Ah!  I had finally warmed.  The clothing, the shower earlier, food, all added up to a warm body.  And, with the long johns, double layers, of everything, and shoes still on, my body was keeping warm.  Which... is why it wasn't tiring enough to sleep.  I need to cool, literally, to sleep.

After a few adjustments, and getting to night settings, sleep finally arrived, if at nearly 04:00.  Ugh.  But, sleep was very good.  And warm.  I stayed toasty up there.  Near me it was 69 around 08:00,  62 at waking.  Out in the open it was more like 58 to 60?  though sometimes they are the same.  Odd.  It was a very good sleep.

I 'dreamed' of 'dreaming' of my cousin.  An echo of a 'dream'.  I put those marks around the word, because... dream doesn't quite cut it, in either way.  The first was more like a vision, the second, a recurring time-place memory of the... vision... visitation?  As beautiful as it is, it... is a hard thing to experience.  We aren't ready to see such... glory? perfection?  Not even I, who have been between a walk of fire and a 'short spit' of heaven.  Not... ready...

I remember, she liked yellow roses.  I always hated, or at the best disliked them.  Friendship?  That... it isn't what men and women are about to each other.  More like cannibals.  Of a sort.  Friends?  No.  No!  I remember thinking of that, when I found out it was her favorite flower.  And, being reminded at her funeral service.  No!

Seeing, or remembering seeing, her... again, brought all that back.  No!  I kept thinking, in spite of the awe.  If a saint is one who is in heaven, she is a saint.  Oh... I think, at once, she would have laughed and blushed at any such notion.  For she, of all, knew better.  I don't know what caused this memory echo, or why so potently, almost as potent as last time, to occur.  I do realize something I didn't then.  I... like yellow roses now.  She, I would say, is my Saint of the Yellow Rose.

It still hurts to think about the visitation.  Humbling?  Too beautiful?  Too full, of life?  Else?  Painful.

Jealous.  In... many ways.  Maybe.  I think I was allowed to remember so vividly so as to remember why.  Why I must try to get up, why I must scrounge for little bits of life from which to build little bits more, why to not give in, surrender, quit.  Death isn't in my hands, neither health.  Getting back up after falling down?  That's all on me.  Christ did it, on His long, lonely, hard walk.  He was given help, too, if often by the reluctant as well.  He knew humility in so many ways.  I guess... this is just one more part of mine?  Amen.

Ah, but... today.  Plans.  Light plans.  Folding laundry, after a few hours of waking.  Bringing the towels down.  They are folded.  Everything is separated, so it won't be difficult.  Then a shower.  I already took care of the ducks and girls.  That was... part of the plan, a part completed.  Then a shower, and trim.  The dishes will go in after.  I am down to very few.  But all the forks and spoons, etc.  All of them, or nearly... ugh.  Breaks as needed.

If possible, I will get out and work on crafting partitions and outer cage panels, moving wood so as to possibly use the shelving, measuring for space again, and looking for the placards and food and water tins.  I will be trying various methods of each, to see what is preferred.  I am also trying to figure out a way to heat stones to put out there in the winter, on colder days and nights.  No promises.  Today is still a bit rough.  Warming and eating helped a bunch yesterday.  I'll keep that in mind.

Either way, tomorrow I will begin in on the cages in earnest.  I should have the design pretty well in hand by the end of today.  To it I will get.  Later.