by Catherine Breese
Like hundreds or thousands of other people in our part of the country, I have spent the last seven days stuck in my house. (And if you are weary of hearing people complain about this, do not read on.) Knowing that many others share my pain should console me, but it does not. In fact, I would say that I am approximately 100% inconsolable. At this moment, if someone were to say to me that tomorrow offered another day off from work, stuck inside of my lovely new home, I would likely respond by screaming “Liar!” and running off to the laundry room to either A. drink bleach, or B. drown myself head first in the utility sink. I remember that poet Sylvia Plath did the head-in-the-oven thing, but we don’t have gas and I think baking one’s head at 350℉ is not sound methodology. We don’t own guns, so creativity is the call of the day. We have a second floor balcony, but I do so hate the idea of ending up in the emergency room not-dead. We do have some good knives in the kitchen. But these might be more aptly applied to someone other than myself–you know, maybe someone who is watching the seventh consecutive episode of “Mountain Men” on the living room television with the volume turned up so loudly that the actual mountain men could hear it in Alaska.
I’d also like to offer a big gratuitous “You’re Welcome!” to the Kroger customers and employees who were entertained by Bryan and me this morning. I clearly saw the produce supervisor snickering as we “debated” our way through the store. We weren’t “bickering,” or so I am told. However, I’d say we were just like one of those old couples, talking too loudly and taking things out of the cart that the other puts in. “How much was that, $1.79? No, that’s only if you buy six. Well, who the hell needs six of these? You don’t have to buy six of this item–it’s six of anything with this blue label. So we need six, right? No, we already have one so we just need five. I don’t think that other blue label said six. Yes, it did. Etc., etc.”
What else have we got, except for the joy brought to us by scorn and disdain? We have cooked, cleaned, watched endless hours of Netflix and Amazon Prime movies, read books, napped, checked the weather forecast, shoveled, napped, and napped. We even played Yahtzee. Bryan re-caulked the shower. I stained some trim pieces for the new floor and did some plastering. (Yes, I know it’s joint compound; but that fact that I just called it “plastering” annoys Bryan.) Then there were all those videos of cats, dogs, and waving bears on YouTube. I deleted all my bad Pandora channels, vacuumed, and organized shoes in my closet. Bryan determined the precise number of photos of birds it takes to make me say the words, “Stop playing with your stupid bird pictures and come eat a salad!”
Last night Bryan said the words, “You know, there might be something to that cabin fever thing.” Uh, ya think? Heeeeeeere’s Sassy!
If all this sounds like a cry for help, it probably is. I am going to work tomorrow. No matter what. I think my family will be safer that way.