The Day I Did Nothing

 

The Day I Did Nothing

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“What are your plans for today?” my daughter asked. We talk by phone most mornings, early mornings.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll do absolutely nothing today.”

She laughed. “Mom, you never have a do-nothing day.”

That’s pretty much true. I don’t always follow plans, but things get done, chores, projects, food, garden. One never knows what plans the day might bring, I say.

We no more than said our good-byes when I noticed that my power had gone out. Kaput! No warning. Just gone. No lights. No refrigerator. No heater on the coldest day we’d had so far this winter.

I have some weird (to me) thing with my bones. If I get cold, my bones hurt right through their centers and into the joints. We know from the song that all the bones are connected, therefore, I am one long pain.

Josue, our usual reliable fix-it man, was working on a job in town, and thus, unavailable. Leo had hared off to Tequila assisting another neighbor so I couldn’t ask him to find me another electrician.

This was early morning, remember. I dare not open the refrigerator, so a creative cookery day in the kitchen, with heat from my propane powered oven, was not an option. Within an hour I was properly frozen, my personal definition of frozen, and thus was immobilized. I ventured outside and parked myself in a patch of (fluctuating) sunlight, wrapped in robes for the arctic, gloved, lap blanket over my legs, book in hand.

I was, certifiably, properly, “doing nothing.” Doing more of nothing became the pattern of my day, as I moved from sun patch to sun patch. In the afternoon, I was saved from self-pity by visits from three different neighbors.

The day wore on, as days inevitably do. Josue returned home from his job later than usual and had committed to a different fix-it job for a neighbor. Leo did not return from Tequila until after five o’clock. I asked Leo if he could find me an available electrician. Twenty minutes later, my new fix-it man showed up.

Lights went up. Lights went down. Lights went up again. I’d no idea what the men were doing but I had no need to know. It was well past dark, when by flashlight, Leo and his friend had fixed my electrical problems, both out where the power comes in from the highway and at the panel at the house.

“Well past dark” means the bitter cold of night had robbed the heat from the day.

My refrigerator clicked on. I cranked up my trusty electric heater, fed myself, donned wool socks for frozen feet and piled on the blankets and huddled into bed awaiting sleep. For the first time ever, I ran my heater all night.

So that was it. That was the day I did nothing. As recreational pastimes go, I don’t recommend it.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

February 11, 2026

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________