According to my dictionary, a state of inactivity or stagnation - sailing ships would be caught in the doldrums of the mid-Atlantic where the winds were too insufficient to push the ship.
In this case, it's the calm after the storm and (probably) before the storm.
I feel as though I spent the whole weekend on the phone. My mother, my aunt, several cousins - there was a family crisis and we were burning up the transAtlantic connections for the better part of two days. And that doesn't count the myriad emails.
When I first moved to the UK I told (convinced) myself that with the modern high-tech communications, keeping in touch wouldn't be an issue, and that if push came to shove, why, I'd just scuttle back to the US and do whatever needed doing.
In PA I lived about eight hours from the rest of the family - that is, eight hours by car - and a flight from England takes just about eight hours, so even with a bit of drive-time to get from the airport to wherever is still comparable in terms of "I can be there by __ o'clock."
Except, of course, I can't.
If the house had sold I might well be in the States: we are tentatively planning to move there for a while once it sells, and (we hope) eventually end up with a small apartment or condo in America and one here, so we can come and go more easily.
But the house isn't selling, and my mother isn't getting any younger, and I can't drive where I need to be - regardless of comparable time frames, arrangements are ever so much more complicated than throwing a bag in the car and heading off. Airports tend to frown on that sort of thing these days, and there's really no such thing as last-minute dashes to the gate.
That's it. Mini-vent over. I missed blogging yesterday altogether (and I'll sort out what I think about that some other day) as I was away with the faeries - Britspeak for "out in left field." To say I was distracted is an understatement.
G'night, Sparklers, wherever you are...