About six minutes after going on my “why are we panicking” rant, I went into full-on panic mode. I drove all over town getting my affairs in line (fed some rabbits, bought some beans) and then came home ready to hunker down for three days. Pajamas on: check. DVDs at the ready: check. Freezer full of soup for just such an occasion: check. Do your worst, mother nature.
Don’t tempt mother nature. Mother nature can break trees and scare the shit out of your poodle. Mother nature can cut off your power. Mother nature can drop a foot of heart-attack snow on you and then laugh while you do yourself a back injury shoveling and still get stuck in the driveway three days later. Mother nature can bring it.
The tree-breaking shit-scaring happened during Cyb’s morning potty break and greatly cut down on the amount of time I needed to stand in the cold, so I didn’t mind that too much. The tree did not fall on the house, which I also took as a positive. The only good thing I can say about the loss of power was that it happened during the daylight (picture me at night, no power, no heat, no phone, no way out. Throw in a chihuahua with a chainsaw and we’ve got ourselves a blockbuster). Thousands of DVDs and no way to watch. Tubs of apocalypse soup and no way to reheat. Somewhere in the middle of this I decided one of my fence posts was the spittin’ image of Marie Antoinette, so you know I’m not kidding about the “I am thisclose to entering The Shinning” situation. Happily, the power came back on and the snow eventually stopped. Sanity is slower to return (see inexplicable chihuahua reference above).
I still wasn’t able to leave my house until Saturday night, and then only through sheer force of will and stupidity. I shoveled the hell out of my deck (because I didn’t want it to snap like all the trees around me. First rule of housesitting: don’t break the house), but I lost my sparkle when I got to the driveway. I started with a very exact path for my car which got narrower and narrower until I finally just gave up, going with the “drive real fast and plow through the snowbank” method instead. What a terrible idea, but a wonderful noise.
And where was I hellbent on going? The bar — and not for unemployment reasons (still got the ol’ job, no worries), but for socializing reasons. Wouldn’t you know it, the first time I decide to go to the bar in months, and it was father/daughter mother/son day for the seniors. The bar was brimmin’ with oldies: dads in tuxes, moms slutted up, and all the students in dress clothes. My shaky social skills were no match for this. I almost split after fifteen minutes of awkward standing, but it got better when my friends arrived and we retreated to a dark, parentless corner. My student employee cheered me up by saying, “Hey, you’re not the oldest person here tonight!” Obviously, I will never be going to the bar ever again.
I spent yesterday at home, losing to my mom at Scrabble, gimping around with my bad back, and just recharging my batteries. Home is good for that.