Our dish washer’s broke, so we had to call Sears to get a technician out here to look at it and it’s one of those service calls they can’t give you an exact time for because timetables embolden the terrorists and endanger national security. So I took the day off from work to sit in the front room all day and watch for the dish washer repair guy.

It’s sort of like being a house cat. I could curl up on the sofa and doze while I waited, getting up from time to time to stuff kibble in my face and poop, if I wanted to make it exactly like being a house cat. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, if only I weren’t on my second cup of coffee already. Won’t be doing much dozing right now.

The view out the front window is of a yard and street freshly covered in a light dusting of snow. I’ll have to forgo dozing to shovel that off the front steps so the service man doesn’t track it through the house on his boots. Or not as much, anyway. There’s still a gentle sprinkle slowly sifting down upon us. Unless I go sweep the stoop every ten minutes, there’s no getting around that.

Once the technician’s on the road he’s supposed to phone to give us an idea when he might be coming around, but no call yet. Or maybe he’s not going to ring us until he’s at the house before ours and just finishing up.

Pensively waiting …