Home again
When I drive the nine plus hours to my home, I build a fictional narrative of the many things that might have happened to my home, my cat, my roof...a break-in, a fire, tornado, a shooting, a death. All of these things have happened over the years, and in a much shorter period of absence, so why then should I expect things to be just fine and dandy after being gone for a week?
Driving hour after hour, anticipating everything gone horribly wrong, I am so tense that I have to break my grip on the steering wheel to get out of the car for more coffee. Now, that is a great idea, more caffeine, that should relax me. Right.
The closer I get to home, the snow is less, but there is more ice,in fact, a whole lot of ice. Whoa! We've had an ice storm, trees are down all over. Piles of ice, like broken glass, glow in the fields that line route 301. I arrive at my home, and there is a sheet of 1" ice covering the front yard and driveway. It is dark and cold and very slippery. I give up on trying to unload the car and carefully make my way to the front door.
After fumbling with my keys in the dark, I realize that I cannot get the key into the lock. It is iced over. Back onto the ice and sliding over towards the garage, I finally reach the side door and go into the house. I had left the heat on, so it was warm. My cat is whining loud and impatiently suggests I feed him. NOW!>
My house looks like it was broken into, but then I remember, I had torn it apart looking for my library books that had to be returned to Goddard College Library. I don't know why I even bother to check out books from school. It is a complete waste of energy. I tend to pick out books that seem to lose their appeal by the time I get home. And then, there is all this trouble of keeping them from getting absorbed into the piles of books and papers that are scattered all around my house.
So < I am home. I have a day long book arts workshop on Saturday and little hope of getting any sleep. oh heck. and then there is the biopsy next week. perfect.
Driving hour after hour, anticipating everything gone horribly wrong, I am so tense that I have to break my grip on the steering wheel to get out of the car for more coffee. Now, that is a great idea, more caffeine, that should relax me. Right.
The closer I get to home, the snow is less, but there is more ice,in fact, a whole lot of ice. Whoa! We've had an ice storm, trees are down all over. Piles of ice, like broken glass, glow in the fields that line route 301. I arrive at my home, and there is a sheet of 1" ice covering the front yard and driveway. It is dark and cold and very slippery. I give up on trying to unload the car and carefully make my way to the front door.
After fumbling with my keys in the dark, I realize that I cannot get the key into the lock. It is iced over. Back onto the ice and sliding over towards the garage, I finally reach the side door and go into the house. I had left the heat on, so it was warm. My cat is whining loud and impatiently suggests I feed him. NOW!>
My house looks like it was broken into, but then I remember, I had torn it apart looking for my library books that had to be returned to Goddard College Library. I don't know why I even bother to check out books from school. It is a complete waste of energy. I tend to pick out books that seem to lose their appeal by the time I get home. And then, there is all this trouble of keeping them from getting absorbed into the piles of books and papers that are scattered all around my house.
So < I am home. I have a day long book arts workshop on Saturday and little hope of getting any sleep. oh heck. and then there is the biopsy next week. perfect.
posted by wipper at 9:05 AM
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