as in, i am. my very important left index finger is impaired and i can't control my typing. not that i was a good typer anyway. it's been sliced open- actually on the side of my hand leading to the very important index finger- and now i'm going to stop shaving and become cave woman hairy armpit cheetah! just the excuse i was looking for!
mid-winter angst comes in many forms: bronchitis, poorly-timed painting projects, inabilty to fold laundry, consumption of too many sausages, near-strangling of produce department hippies, babbling blogginess, and consumption of too many beers. the shley shift to a spring mentality, however premature in this, the first half of february, is designed to combat such angst and bring about new motivation. rejuvinated writing habits! rekindled relationships with surly produce clerks! renewed interest in laundry folding! refresh! re re re! so what that i sliced my hand open doing the job that i find so agri-ethically demoralizing (yes, it's a word! i just made it up). i will approach my lettuce stacking tasks and burned out co-workers with whistling delight.
....maybe.
at the very least i will pretend that it's spring, despite the snow outside.
yesterday i tromped up a canyon in the snow to find breathtaking views across the high plains of the rockies. the day before that i soaked for two hours in the hot springs of pagosa. what more motivation could i need for my re-ness?
rest assured, shley will not stop shaving her armpits.
5 comments:
I agree seestor I am shifting to spring right now. Although it is 15 degrees out. But,up here (points to head) I'm already gone.
Notafinga
You are not alone in being sick of winter. A couple of nights ago, while wearing a bathrobe over three layers of clothing and still feeling cold, I nursed my blues by leafing through a wedding photo album. Not to admire myself in bridal attire, mind you, but to remember the yards as a lush, green, warm, un-destroyed vision of bliss. Remember how concerned we were with dislodging walnuts from the turf? HA! We'll be lucky if we get most of the brush cleared out before we have to start mowing. When are you and Ed going to come to SpringDing and rejuvenate our desire to chainsaw?
feel not moved to labor.
We will endure our fate.
We ask not what our family will do for us.
But we will not be cleaning your yard this year.
Is that a sonnet?
Ode to the apartment dwellers?
soft lofters
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