Long winter nights

Do you know what's hard on a Mississippi girl living in England? The long winter nights, and the days with no sun. Last night it got pitch black dark by 5:00. I had been in town earlier having tea with my friend Madeleine so I thought I wouldn't have that confined closed-in feeling that I get by 6:30 in the winter, but I did.

I finished my domestic chores then I finished a book by Julia Childs. I played with the cat for a while. I watched some TV with my husband but it was still only 7:30. I talked to my son, but he was busy with homework and told me, in essence, to make it snappy.

I took the prices off some Christmas presents I'd bought earlier that day. I took an early bath.

I filed my nails -- but it was still only 8:30. I looked around for some cross-stitch I'd started a few weeks ago but couldn't find it.

I started reading another book. Then I felt sort of like a caged animal. At 9:45, I asked my husband if he would mind getting dressed and going out with me for a walk. I felt like I was going to go insane if I didn't get out. He was happy to go out, and we walked for a mile. When we got back, it wasn't even 10:15 so I started reading again.

How on earth am I going to get through this winter with my mental faculties intact?

PS
Just found a nice poem about long winter nights:

"The Cracked Bell"
by Charles Baudelaire

How bittersweet it is, on winter's night,
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire,
As distant memories, through the fog-dimmed light,
Rise, to the muffled chime of churchbell choir.

Lucky the bell—still full and deep of throat,
Clear-voiced despite its years, strong, eloquent—
That rings, with faithful tongue, its pious note
Like an old soldier, wakeful, in his tent!

My soul lies cracked; and when, in its despair,
Pealing, it tries to fill the cold night air
With its lament, it often sounds, instead,

Like some poor wounded wretch—long left for dead
Beneath a pile of corpses, lying massed
By bloody pool—rattling, gasping his last.

Eliz again: oops, not so pleasant an ending, but still, it's poetry so it must be worth it.