It was a nice quiet weekend, just the way I like it. I continue reading Fridtjof Nansen’s interminable book on his Fram expedition. It’s not boring – I’d have dumped it if it was. But it’s suitable to its subject – grim and dark and uncomfortable. It correlates well to the weather we’re experiencing. I can’t resist tailoring tonight’s post to the pattern of his daily journal entries:

January 10, 2022: The day dawned bright and cold. I made my way to the gym again, after skipping most of last week due to my temporary attack of an unspecified ailment. I don’t believe it was Covid; the symptoms seemed wrong. But if it was, all the better; in that case I’m over it now. The temperature was -6 Fahrenheit as I drove; it reached a high of 3 above during the afternoon. Tomorrow looks to be warmer. When shall spring come? Will I live so long? Ah, for the warm zephyrs and green grass of June! It seems so far away in these dark days.

It appears most of the people at the gym are wearing masks again now. For some time they’d become rare. I’m still going barefaced. I believe the vaccine has some benefits, but I think I’ve become a mask skeptic.

At lunchtime I tried to get into Arby’s again, and again the dining room was closed, in spite of a big sign saying the room is open as a general principle. I hold no grudge; no doubt they’re doing their best to recruit workers. But once again, as has happened so often of late, I ended up at Perkins, which is nearby and where I can count on a table to sit at in comfort. The manager actually mentioned, as I paid my bill, that he’d been seeing me a lot lately. I had to confess I hadn’t set out with his restaurant in mind. Perhaps I should have let him believe he’d won a devoted fan, but that would just have left him with an illusion sure to be shattered. My meal was jumbo shrimp, which Perkins does pretty well, though I noticed the shrimp aren’t as jumbo as they used to be. Restaurant management is a tough business just now – I don’t begrudge them a few economies. The place is warm, the food is good, and the help is friendly.

This afternoon I girded up my loins and addressed a job I’d been putting off – filing and paying my Minnesota sales tax for books I unloaded during my summer adventures. I’ve never had any serious problem with the process, and yet I always approach it with fear and trembling. Great was my relief when I got the job done (online) and printed out my receipts (duplicates, because you can never be too careful). My only regret was that the money I transferred doubtless works out to sunk costs.

Yeah, that’s about the right town. Winter in Minnesota / dead reckoning trekking on an ice floe in the Arctic Ocean. Essentially the same thing.