I’m starting to understand how Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining went nuts at the Overlook Hotel. Snow. So much. . . Snow. Okay, the joint was also haunted, but you can’t discount the snow in his maniacal decline. It’s maddening to be surrounded by this much snow, unable to take breaks from these people I love. I’m usually cavalier about the weather. I drive when I don’t have to. I guffaw at icy sidewalks. I don’t fold in extra time to differ my routine. So when I couldn’t un-park my car yesterday, I’m all, “Wow. Snow. What are you gonna do?” After my husband and I dug the car out so I could go to the grocery store (We had vegetables and shit, but we ran out of beer), I got stuck driving back into my neighborhood. And some lady in a Yaris had the temerity to honk at me for “parking” seven feet away from the curb. People are assholes.
The rule at our house is that we don’t watch t.v. during the school week. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not a saint. The kids sneak in plenty of time with gadgets, but it makes me feel like a better parent to limit their boob tube time. Yeah, that nonsense was so 2013, when I hadn’t spent every waking moment for 16 days with my sweeties. Those two extra snow days, when school was scheduled to open, are just the twist of the bored, isolationist knife. The kids have watched 15 hours of television each day the last few days. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but if Netflix broke or our internet connection had failed, I’m scared to think of what that would have been like. After two weeks, we’ve already DONE everything there is to do. We went ice skating. We went swimming. We played in the snow. We watched classic movies. We read. I should have forced them to read and practice math facts, but I just didn’t have the energy on account of how busy I’ve been not doing much. I am so lame.
And though it’s initially appealing to wear pajamas all day, I don’t own pajama jeans for a reason. I prefer to look presentable, in case the house catches on fire or something, and I have to run out. The last several days, hiding from the sub-zero temperatures, I look like I belong in a nursing home. I’ve been wearing my nightgown on top of patterned sweat pants with a mix-matched sweater plus my robe. It’s fricking freezing in our condo, and our bed is surrounded by five uninsulated windows. My breath is stale. I bathe every 36 hours. My hair has static electricity from the scarf around my neck. I look (and feel) HOT.
I wish my environs were large enough to ride a big wheel around the halls, but that would require a residence that had “halls”. We have wood floors though, so I do let the kids roller blade in the house, because, why not? Sure, they’ve taken out some wood moulding in the process, but you gotta let them do some stuff that seems tabu on occasion or they’re going to start smoking cigarettes behind the garage. Yeah, that sounded more sage parental practical in my head, but I think you get the drift. After a 16 day winter break, the last thing any parent wants to hear, and the most delightful thing a kid wants to hear, is that school is closed because of inclement weather.
I appreciate the fact I don’t HAVE to get out, because of some “real job” sort of nonsense, but I don’t enjoy lounging around for very long. A two hour movie is a big commitment for me. I’d be happier organizing my photos or cleaning out closets. But I don’t feel like doing any of that shit when I’ve been cooped up and that’s the only thing left to do. What I wouldn’t give to get lost in a shrub maze about now. Minus the husband running after me with an axe.
P.S. The photo above is me in 1978, posing in the snow.