Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Locked Out and Snowbound = Cabin Fever
I am locked out of my Hotmail account, which is frustrating the heck of me. It's how I stay in touch with friends and family, so to be denied access is making me nuts, particularly on a day when I am snowbound. What's that, you ask, all my Aussie friends enjoying summer? What's that, you ask, my parents in sunny Florida, complaining because it's too windy to play tennis? What's that, you ask, all my friends in the desert in Arizona, or the rain forest of B.C.? Snowbound? What does that mean, exactly?
It means I can't get into my car because it's iced shut.
It means I have to shovel my driveway as far as the mound of hard-packed boulders the city plow left, effectively blocking me in, at which point I will wrap my shovel around a tree.
It means I can't walk Buddy, do any Christmas shopping, get groceries, mail cards.
Do I seem grumpier than usual? Around 5 a.m., after a fitful night from unsuccessfully blocking the sweet aural caress of deep canine snoring not unlike that of a geezer on a bender, I heard Buddy fall out of his bed (i.e. the armchair in the corner of our bedroom) and land with a loud grunt on the floor. After pitter-pattering in slow circles around the hardwood on his unclipped nails (note to self: clip Buddy's nails) I lay there and listened, willing him with my mental powers to climb back up and go to sleep. He tried and failed repeatedly to jump into the chair. He'd launch himself with everything he had, but he kept sliding off the mini-duvet I helpfully put out for him the night before, hitting the floor, again and again. I finally got up and heaved him back into bed, for which he seemed grateful as he resumed his snoring almost immediately. What does he care? He loves the snow. I was just drifting off (no pun intended) when Boris forced his way in and jumped on my chest. Normally Doug lets him out every morning, so when he sat on me and went deadweight, I knew he was saying, "Make the snow go away, woman." I wish, dear Boris. If only....
Old man winter mocks me. Even my barbeque is laughing.