RotisserieWe’re in a lovely place, in lovely circumstances. This is abundantly clear to me both as I look around and as I hear news of the aggressive winter weather that has been burying my home in New England for many weeks.

I certainly love being here, but I’m in a delicate position–I don’t want to engender discontent in anyone kind enough to read what I’m writing. I don’t spend a lot of time describing the weather (very lovely), the Mediterranean (we’ve only been down once so far, but such a beautiful color!) the smell of the orange trees (words fail me).

Still, there’s a chance that one or two of you might feel conflicted upon receiving my cheerful notes from Spain.  In case you’d like a small helping of schadenfreude with your morning hot chocolate, I will admit that I miss our regular bed. I mentioned earlier that we generally get up much later here than in Massachusetts. That is due in part to not having gotten quite the restful sleep we might have desired.

I feel somewhat like a rotisserie chicken, turning frequently to try to settle into a comfortable position. When I wake, though, I don’t have a tasty golden brown exterior, but a stiff neck and some shoulder mobility issues. Ah, well. Into every life some aches and pains must creep. Now back to our regularly scheduled cheer.

[image: Chickens being roasted on a spit. Romance of Alexander, Bruges, 1338-44. The Bodleian Library, Oxford, MS 264 fol 170v.]

3 thoughts on “Schadenfreude

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