Little things seem to matter more when you are isolated, remote, cold and ‘in the dark’. And it is usually raining to boot. But which of the little things matter most vary from person to person. For me, it is not being able to or even wanting to do all my little projects. Without projects, I am bored. When bored, I tend to hibernate (read: nap). So, to compensate for the lethargy, I kinda ‘make indoor projects’ but I am not allowed to ‘make a mess’ except in the kitchen. So, I have been exploring recipes lately. Thanks to JA, I am now thinking of curried cauliflower…….
………clearly, I am getting whacked. It might even be (gasp) cabin fever. I might be bushed. When cauliflower becomes my focus, I am obviously spiraling into madness. Maybe with cheese sauce?
Sal has healthier and better outlets for her season-stifled energies. The biggest one, of course, is that a ‘woman’s work is never done’ and so housekeeping is part of the therapy for her. And then there is quilting, book-club, community work and the incredible burden of living with me. That woman carries a load!
And, from all of that, manifested her recent whackedness. Today, she went to town. Going to town almost felt like an adventure, a foray into the Covid wilderness for her. Felt a smidge like abandonment to me. I was not invited. But really, tho? Sal just needed to bust out. Mostly, it was because she was out of scotch. A woman can only suffer cabin fever quietly for so long!
She ran out of scotch last night. She was in the boat heading to town early this morning.
I am mostly just teasing. She had other reasons to go to town…….she was getting low on chocolate, too. But the biggest reason she admitted to was “I need a haircut!”
“No, you don’t, sweetie. Your hair looks great!”
“You don’t understand. I NEED a haircut!”
“Is that some kind of euphemism? You flirting?”
“No, you idiot! It means my hair is too long and I need to cut it!”
“No problem. I’ll cut it. Tell me what you want and I’ll get the trimmer and whack away until you tell me to stop.”
“There is no way in hell you are cutting my hair. That is just plain weird. Creepy, actually. Ooooh, my skin is crawling just thinking about it, you perv.”
“Sal, it is just a haircut! Mind you, I WAS going to dress up like a stylist and mince about….”
She was headed for town within minutes of that conversation. Seems one of us is getting a bit bushed.