It’s Friday. Another week under my belt (which is starting to feel a little tighter). And I’m making plans – big plans! First, I want to sleep as late as possible tomorrow morning. Then, I’m going to get dressed…in fresh pjs, probably Snoopy (because who doesn’t love Snoopy). Finally, I want to curl up under a thick blanket and spend the rest of the day with two sweet guys, Ben & Jerry. If I decide at any time that I need a little culture, I’ll add Häagen-Dazs! And if Hubby wants romance, we can enjoy a stroll, hand in hand, to the fridge. I am giving in…to the February blahs!
I have weathered more snowstorms, ice storms and blasts of arctic temperatures than I care to think back on. Last night I helped Hubby shovel the driveway, and then I acted as a safety cone to protect him from cars turning the corner, while he dug out the storm drain for the street. Today we are expecting “Noah’s Ark – it’s the end of the world” kind of rain. And I’m tired. I’m tired of bundling up to get the mail out of the box, even though it’s just an arm’s reach around the door frame. I’m tired of shuffling to the car with my nose to the ground lest I wipeout on a patch of ice. I’m tired of wearing the same 2 sweaters…with the same 2 scarves…in a futile attempt to almost get warm at the office. My winter boots leak, and my hands smell like wet wool (I should probably wash my mittens). I blew out the armpits in my winter coat months ago…and I can’t get my “it’s really cold weather” winter coat clean. I forget what colour my new car is and I find myself surprised and disturbingly elated that it hasn’t dissolved into a pile of salt and rust…need I really go on?
I lack the energy and the motivation to pursue my mid-life crisis. For example, I thought about going to the new French lingerie store before Valentine’s Day, but the thought of that much exposed white flesh just made me…shiver. The “someone just walked over my grave” kind of shiver. My skin hasn’t seen the sun in months, so I’m sure I could strip and blend in with the snow banks…except for my hair, which is boring brown and perpetually frizzy from all the dry air. I should probably shave it off and start over…
I wrapped up my business at the end of December. It was too hard to keep going while working “full time” (granted I only work 5.5 hours, four days a week). I have a rainbow assortment of spectacular papers and inks…and I have absolutely no original thoughts. I pull the stuff out, stare at it for awhile, and leave it piled on the table…we’ve been eating in front of the television every night for months…I can sing the theme song for “The Octonauts”, “Spongebob Squarepants”, and “Pinky and the Brain”. The lack of original thought extends to writing, photography, and music. I tried to take pictures of three squirrels chasing each other yesterday morning – they would hide every time I went outside (in my pjs) and laugh at me.
Spending the afternoon with me is like watching paint dry…which reminds me, I still haven’t finished painting my kitchen…Despite my valiant efforts, the front entrance is perpetually stained with mud and salt, the furniture is perpetually coated with thick dust, and the floors are perpetually sprinkled with guinea pig shavings. On the plus side, I have become a master toilet plunger-er…And while I tried a few new recipes, at least one family member hated them.
So forgive me, dear Hubby, if you come home this afternoon and I am already firmly planted at my end of the couch licking the last of the chocolate icing out of the tub with my fingers. The pizza flyers are on the counter and the phone is in the charger…
If I disappear from the world for a few days, I am either in a sugar coma, or I have had a breakdown and I am licking crumbs off the carpet.