After a night spent here, [exhausted though I was, I still managed to sit for at least two hours in a comfortable chair near the window in my gorgeous and finely-appointed bedroom, eating UNBELIEVABLY SCRUMPTIOUS sweets and drinking a mug of Belgian chocolate, gazing at the stars and imagining the journey that I was supposed to begin this morning], I made my way downstairs, into the Great Hallway, through the double doors into the Formal Entry Room (I have no idea why anyone would call a room that -- it's a large room built in dark wood from floor to ceiling, and there are benches, tables, and bookshelves built in to the walls...it's sort of like a fancy waiting area). From there I peeked out the window over the balcony, in hopes of seeing the vehicle that would be my mode of transportation.
But I saw nothing (other than the snowy gardens and the path cut out in the snow-covered drive by an earlier vehicle's departure). That moment of seeing nothing was the first of many, over the span of the half-hour I waited downstairs in the Formal Entry Room before going outside. At the end of a half-hour's wait, I stepped out for a moment, through the glass doors and onto the balcony, and realized that it wasn't so cold outside after all (the sun is fairly bright up here, when it's out, and there was no wind at that moment, so it was relatively pleasant out).
But I did want some tea, or some hot cider, or a coffee or something. So I went back inside in search of a beverage, thinking I might also find out what was happening with my ride along the way. That's usually the way things work around here.
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