Friends kept saying how much cabin fever they were feeling, but I never got to that point. I wonder how long it would take? Mostly, I loved it. Not being indoors so much, as not running errands, not going to work, not having any particular responsibilities, being utterly on my own schedule. This never happens in real life and it truly felt like a vacation from real life.
Maybe I'm weird in that I like that. I knew it was going to end, so I never freaked out. I didn't have to go anywhere and we had plenty of food, and I'd finished what shopping I was planning to do, so I didn't worry.
It was wonderful. The world was white and beautiful outside, and inside I was warm and full of good books and music and chocolate and blackberry-apple pie.
But now the snow has receded, and there are only a few bits of it left where it was piled up and where not quite enough sun has reached, and somehow I really expected some kind of transformation. The world to be different somehow instead of just muddier and dirtier. It's anti-climactic. Was I tricked? Robbed? Something should be different--I just wish I knew what that something is.
In the meantime, Christmas just slipped on by. My parents canceled their trip down as soon as they knew the forecast was bad, so it was just Jim and I, and we had already decided that this was a good year to pare back, as we'd recently given each other big presents, spent quite a bit on things necessary for the house, etc., and we need a new mattress and boxspring very, very soon. And besides, there really wasn't anything either or us wanted or needed. We were going to buy ourselves a breadmaker, but Devin gave us one on long-term loan.
Our towels were starting to fray, so Mom bought us new ones, which we've already been using (so she's been telling all her friends that she gave us used towels for Christmas--I have to say, they're really lovely--we chose sage green--and very soft, so they're very nice used towels).
So that is the state of our world.
For my listening, reading, writing adventures and sections from my 1995 journal, see Les Semaines.