I got nothing done this past week.
I didn’t plan it that way, I didn’t wish for it. There are many items unchecked on my To-Do list. My body hurts. And it was my birthday. Cue whining. I think it’s the snow.
My birthday fell on a Tuesday this year and the weekend before I went out of town. There were no birthday-related activities planned--I went to Buffalo with Annie for a baby shower and all the attention was on the new mother to be, and then Luca when we were back the in-laws’ house. As it should be. It was nice, even though I wasn’t the center of attention because I didn’t have to lift a finger the whole time I was there. I even finished a book I was reading. Easy-peasy weekend for me and a lovely way to welcome Birthday Week. Until the drive home. For each of the 370 miles between Buffalo and Watertown, snow fell on our journey.
We made it home safely, until, at the very end of the trip, literally pulling in to the driveway at Annie’s, we got stuck in the snow. That pushed all of us to our max and we unpacked the car, ate dinner and I went home with Angelo. (He didn’t come to Buffalo. He stayed home and made sauce and brought it over to Annie’s, fortunately for us.) It was the last straw syndrome--you can have a great time until that last thing tips the balance and suddenly you realize that you’re done.
But my birthday was on its way and people wanted to celebrate and who was I to stop them? On Monday, my friend Trudy took me to a wonderful lunch at a restaurant I had always wanted to go to. It was perfect. (There really is something to this going out to lunch thing. I need to investigate it more thoroughly.) On Tuesday I had a really nice celebration with my family and got cake and presents and wine. So, when I say I got nothing done this week, I wasn’t talking about celebrating. I did get some celebrating done. But the snow wouldn’t quit.
By Thursday, we had another snowstorm and work was canceled, my class was canceled and there was only shoveling to do. No writing, no planning, and definitely no cleaning. Why clean the kitchen floor when more snow and salt and sand will be tracked in within the hour anyway? That’s how I look at it.
By Friday I was simply at loose ends. It was Valentine’s Day, more snow was predicted. More cancelations, more digging and plowing. I couldn’t keep track of what I was supposed to be getting done (nothing) and I couldn’t decide what to do next. I had cabin fever and writer’s block all at the same time. Because this year we keep getting more snow. Snow covers every inch of our world except for the thin, grayish-black margins of the roads. The icicles hang down like prison bars around the house and also act like nature’s security system; if they fall on you, you’re dead! When I look out my doors and windows, there is only snow. Isn’t there something about going mad in the snow? I think there is.
On the other hand, I do live in Connecticut. It snows here. Especially in February. Every year on my birthday, when I talk to my dad, he says, “I’ll always remember the day we brought you home from the hospital in that blizzard!” I should be used to it. So I’ll just consider this past week a vacation week. I got nothing done but I did have a nice time not doing it. I celebrated with family and friends and had some delicious food and tasty drinks. And I didn’t get sunburned. Or go (completely) mad.