It started snowing late yesterday afternoon. I think it snowed all night, and there was still some snow in the air at 9:00 this morning. This little map is a cut of our state’s DOT road warnings. That’s my county. The lightening bolt is for winter storm warnings. All those purple dots are for hazardous driving conditions and the whole state map looks like somebody just poured a few packages of purple skittles over it.
I dislike purple skittles immensely. IMO, fake grape and fake banana are the two worst candy flavors in the universe.
Today was supposed to be the FYG’s two week check up when we’d determine how the healing was going, whether or not she needed a cast, what physical therapy to pursue. We canceled and rescheduled.
Jenny tells me that last year by this time, we’d had five inches of snow. This year, we are at 53 inches.
I have a mother bear of a cold that is just kicking my tail. I woke up last night so solidly clogged up that I couldn’t breathe. My own phlem (and this is too much information) gagged me to the point of losing my cookies. Only it wasn’t cookies, it was kimchi pajeon. I can’t find my eucalyptus oil- I think I gave it to one of my married daughters because they were all so stuffy. I drank some medicinal tea and slurped down emergen-c and am eating cough drops like candy, but it’s not helping. When I blow my nose it sounds like a flock of very large geese is in the room with me. Or in my nose.
Mount fold-me is sneering at me in a very ugly, spiteful fashion. Winter coats, hunting coats, boots, and the other detritus of living in the great white north or near enough cover my laundry room floor to the point where you can’t really see the floor. I have a really large laundry room. That’s a lot of detritus.
My dog couldn’t hold it and he peed on the floor upstairs. My dog is an Irish Wolfhound and he doesn’t have puddles when he piddles, he has lakes.
Last week I was philosophically giving a cheerful and friendly warning to a young southern friend who is new to the area that winter wasn’t over even though there was no snow on the ground, that this month was typically the worst. I sent her a sweet little piece of nature writing by one of my favorite home-grown authors about winters in this area and how we locals just love our many winters and miss the seasonal extremes when we move.
This week my philosophy has died and it’s starting to reek. I want to lay on my bed and kick and scream.
I want to go to Florida. Or Hawaii. I want to be somewhere that I don’t have to stay warm by wrapping a quilt around my shoulders and sitting with three layers of quilts and blankets over my legs and a heating pad under my feet.
I’m having dark and wicked thoughts about what should be done to people who chirp, “Look on the bright side!”
Even my disgustingly optimistic, look-on-the-bright-side, everything is always wonderful, husband just stood in here, looked out the window and sighed, “The winter that would not go away.”
In short, oh. Never mind. It’s too late to be brief.
I’m not having a pity party. I am taking a mud bath in the miry swamps of pity.
So I am kicking my own self in the backside and looking for some bright side things before some well-meaning other soul decides to live dangerously and tell me these things:
We have running water and electricity and propane.
All the family that still live at home are here- because school was canceled- even the University.
The FYG may be on crutches and having trouble moving her leg, but she has her leg and her foot.
We have blackberries in the fridge and creamy raw milk.
We have coffee and we have coffee creamer.
Mount Fold Me is proof that we have more than adequate clothing.
The winter gear all over the laundry room floor is proof that we have plenty of winter clothing to keep us warm.
I have the internet.
I can take a nap.’
I can almost breathe through one nostril.