Yesterday was the first big snow of the year, five inches or more, plus rain and slush to top it off with. The future mother-in-law offered a ride to work which I gladly accepted, and the fiance’s oldest friend called me by 10 a.m. to offer a ride home at the end of the day so I didn’t have to trudge home. Door-to-door service had me motivated enough on a Tuesday to get home early, crawl onto the couch for a three hour nap, and wake up to have peach cobbler (from scratch) out of the oven for the fiance’s return home.
But this morning, I just couldn’t do it. I woke up, saw the snow still coming down, and wanted to cry at the idea of leaving the house at all, much less slushing up to take three buses before 7 am. I couldn’t bear to be a grown up today. So, I called work, left voicemails all around about the transit delays, and schlumped under a blanket on my couch to doze off and on until noon. By which time there was really no point in going in.
I worry when I have these days. I should be able to do what needs to be done no matter the weather. I have been a good little adult all these months while the fiance’ fell apart. And I wonder if I’m finally relaxed enough to collapse. I have dodged phone calls from potential clients that I need to return. I have left email unanswered. All of which is non-urgent and can be dealt with tomorrow. But I worry that I won’t thaw for tomorrow. I have officially given in to winter and wonder if I’ll be able to pull it back together before spring.
I’m off to baby myself a little, to give myself the go ahead for a day of lazy nothing in hopes that I can do what needs to be done tomorrow. I’m sure a little sunshine and a good dinner wouldn’t hurt. In the meantime, you can find me under the quilt my grandma made, hiding from the big bad snow and pretending that tomorrow will be spring.