To be perfectly frank, I have nothing to say to you.
I have one singular purpose now; seizing any opportunity that might come along that would propel me out of this snowbound wasteland and into the civilized world- or Florida. I’m not picky anymore.
In the wake of a Washington DC blizzard that crippled our transportation, closed our schools and kept us housebound for the better part of a week, I have come to realize that no amount of stockpiled bread, eggs, milk and toilet paper can combat the destitute singularity of a life lived without access to others.
Even my dogs, who at first basked in the undivided attention of a captive family, began slinking off to stare at Benny, the smarmy rodent, who sat in trees just out of harms way and snacked on forraged nuts while openly mocking them and letting his garbage roll carelessly onto the white carpet of snow below.
I took solace in thinking that the heads of the collective school systems would be in a hot radiator warmed basement somewhere yelling from behind some sort of scholarly pulpit that “TOMORROW SCHOOLS MUST OPEN!” and then slamming down a big gavel with finality and purpose….but no.
The emergency message red lettering that usually glows on my computer screen and results in an occasional gleeful day off a few times a year, kept informing me that we were never going back. Ever.
So here we sit, on day seven of our imposed exile. Surrounded by mountains of never-ending white, marinating in the filth of our uncollected garbage, wondering how it might look if we ever blew the power grid or faced some sort of epic planetary crisis without cable or wifi. My husband left our hive of toxic smells and bad karma two days ago to return to the relative sanity and cleanliness of his office, where he probably sits and waits and extra five hours to return home every evening. Can’t say I blame him, I found myself lingering a few minutes too long in front of the chatty saleswoman at the local craft store just to get some human interaction that didn’t involve the sound of clanking dishes or food requests screamed from the top of the stairs.