Snow Days

My brain is like a cat. It wants in, it wants out, it wants in again. The snow is beautiful, but there is so much of it, and I can’t really get anywhere while it’s falling. I have work to do at home, but my brain wants in, it wants out, it wants in again.

As per the submission guidelines of Tahoma Literary Review, I am writing something I am afraid to show my writing group. It is hard to shape and hard to write. It is making me look at myself with more depth. It’s helping me break through with the memoir. It’s an attempt to make myself a better person.

[Management acknowledges that the last sentence was terribly pretentious, but please do not judge poor Indy too harshly.] There are three ways to get into my house, and I’ve shoveled each entrance at least once so far today. Shoveling is one of the few outside chores I am actually good at. I’m not sure what makes someone bad at shoveling, but I weed like a drunken two-year-old and potted plants shiver at my approach.

To-do lists slide across my consciousness. How many times can you copy over the five vitally important items that you needed to do last month (by which I probably mean December) before you have yourself declared mentally incompetent?  Although I’m not actually unhappy, I’m hard to live with.

This might be the mental equivalent of itchy winter skin. I can’t read, I can’t watch TV. I’m hoping when the snow stops falling I can walk to the library and find some new books, ones that can hold my attention. Until then I’m going to be scrambling around the Internet, alternately working, writing, and losing my mind.

What do you do in February?

 

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7 responses to “Snow Days

  1. Whine about how if I wanted the experience of off-road driving, I
    (a) wouldn’t do it in a Honda Civic; and
    (b) wouldn’t do it ON-road down Main Street.

  2. Late January: “I can’t wait for it to snow! I can’t believe we haven’t had a good storm yet! Snow is fun! I am hearty!”

    Early February: “Goddamn snow I can’t handle it I’m never driving anywhere ever in my life ever until at least June walking anywhere is the worst idiot neighbors can’t be bothered to shovel properlyaaaaaaaaaargh”

  3. Do you have two bells? I mean if your brain is a cat, is it one of those with two bells? I got a cat last week, and I thought she needed two bells. She’s a charity cat, the kind that you take because your son is moving to Fiji, and he says “please Mom! Can’t you take the cat?” but you live next to a rare bird sanctuary, so you say “yes, if she’ll wear two bells! Then, I’ll take your cat!” Are you like that cat that has two bells?

    If so, would you please stop pretending it’s demeaning to have bells, and that it’s itchy to have bells, and that your bells need to come of now now now, and even if it’s 3 AM. Please stop!

    Grrrr

      • Even though she has a history of murdering and torturing animals smaller than herself, it was in her youth. I am thinking of taking her off her diet so I can remove the bells. If she is too big to jump, then the birds are safe…

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