My car was in the shop recently getting the ignition coils and module replaced. The mechanic checked my battery and said it registered at 229 (volts? miliamps? whatever.) and asked if the car lived inside. I said no, then was asked if I had problems starting it. Again, no, then was asked if I plugged it it. I said I hadn't plugged it in for about three years now (even when the weather dips below -30C I don't bother plugging it in). Poor mechanic looked shocked so I asked what the battery should register at. He said 670. Well now. Knowing that I figured I should get a new battery sooner rather than later. I went today and watched them test the old one - down to 130. Huh. I think my car was using my hopes and dreams to start every day.
My last day of work was Thursday and when I left there was a bag tied to my lock on my locker. Inside the bag was bubble bath, a scrub & massage brush, body lotion, and chocolates. The tag said it was from Santa, but I think I know which elf delivered it to my locker. That elf will be thanked when I get back to work. So on Thursday I sat in the bath where I dozed until the water was cold. Divine :) I frequently forget that some people actually listen when I say something (I'd been asked what I planned to do during Shutdown, I said sit in the bath for a week and give my aching elbows and knees a soak & rest).
Today is the shortest day of the year so we can expect to have only about 7 hours of daylight. The only thing I like about this is that starting tomorrow the days will get longer and longer.
I want to be an author, but that seems to require me actually writing a book. Someday.
My younger son J has inherited my anxiety. I really thought he would have been fine, he's always been sociable and seemed to get along with people easily. J says the anxiety is a result of all the drugs he did. Very much a possibility, and luckily he doesn't seem to think he needs to do drugs to get over the anxiety. I'm ok with him staying clean even if that means he doesn't like leaving the house.