It’s February again. That shortest month of the year, and the month in which the most people die. I think people just give up in February. Christmas is long over (not that I am a great fan of the holiday hype,) and winter seems to just keep hanging on. Most people are still paying for the crap they blithely and wantonly purchased for Christmas, that the kids have either broken or gotten bored with already. If you’re going to go, why not now? All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
That is a morbid thought, and I am no stranger to morbid thoughts. I am always pulling worst case scenarios out of my imagination. I should write horror movies, or at least get to narrate a guided tour of the Mütter Museum. (I should get to actually go to Philadelphia to see the Mütter Museum…it’s on my bucket list.)
This morning’s drive was particularly sucky. 40-50MPH winds combined with temperatures in the low 20s and snow squalls meant that not only was the car being blown around, but there were little patches of ice hiding beneath that blowing snow. I got here OK and with little incident, but some jackwagon in a Jeep Wrangler bought a trip to the ditch, likely arising from the erroneous assumption that 4 wheel drive makes one invincible.
Days like this remind me of my own fallibility and mortality more than I would like. Yes I know I screw up (a lot) and that every passing day I’m (to quote Pink Floyd’s song, “Time”) one day closer to death.
Days like this remind me of how not normal I am too. Maybe it’s the overwhelming fatigue, or the inevitable joint pain that accompanies a low barometer, but I suspect it’s something deeper than weather. I went to the Dr. just the other day and my labs and such are mostly normal, so I probably don’t have any additional health failures. Even so, I am so tired I could sleep for weeks.
Maybe I am still guilt tripping. Call it survivor’s guilt or maybe worse. It’s not right to feel as if a weight has been lifted from me. I feel like I don’t deserve a normal life…and maybe it’s not. I don’t have a clue what “normal” is, nor have I ever had an accurate frame of reference and it scares me. I don’t know what I am supposed to feel. Then again, feeling anything always seems foreign to me.
I needed an extended sabbatical a long time ago but for various reasons that wasn’t able to happen. So I have to take bits and pieces of mental rest and reflection where I can get them. Sometimes drive time is good for that. Not lately, because driving is stressful when the weather sucks, but sometimes. I should have a Cougar Nap Saturday coming up and I will take advantage of that if I can. If I take a few hours to just nap and watch reality TV (Botched is a good one, or The Incredible Dr. Pol, if I am in the mood for watching farm animals) on a Saturday, who can blame me?
I do need to set up a time (probably next Saturday) to get my oil changed and tires rotated, or I might arrange to drop the car off one day next week and drive the truck.
I am not looking forward to my birthday, which I hope most people I know will overlook. Usually they do because it’s at the end of February, when the winter funk and the it’s-not-quite-winter but-definitely-not-spring blecch season is in full swing in Ohio.
I think I might decide to set up some sort of weekend getaway sometime soon. Maybe.
And it is quite OK to forget my birthday.