Signs of Cabin Fever

athena's owlCabin fever makes me cut my hair, even though the results from the last seven home haircuts were arguable. The money I save from not getting a professional cut is diverted to gas for trips to the ski hill where I wear a hat and no one would see my fabulous haircut anyway.

Cabin fever explains irrational justifications.

Cabin fever makes me reach for the fettuccine as I re-cap the last seven dinners and realize I’ve been serving variations of pasta or tortillas since September.

 

Cabin fever makes Will beg me to take him for a Blizzard at Dairy Queen when the thermometer reads -12.

Cabin fever makes Jen play heads or tails with her Athena/Owl Drachma (Athena = heads; owl = tails) long enough that the cat has long-since stopped chasing the coin when it’s dropped.

Cabin fever makes the cat yowl at the ray of sun on the bedroom floor as if to say, “Why must you deceive me? Why, when I finally get the servant to open the door, do I discover that you have not warmed the backyard as I expected. Why?!”

 

Cabin fever makes me wish I could fall in love with network TV. Cabin fever makes me complain that there is never anything of interest on Netflix, all while developing a crush on Oliver from Arrow.

Cabin fever makes me – even for a brief moment – wonder if I might attract one of the Olivers of the world (albeit, an Oliver of a certain age) with a better haircut.

Cabin fever makes my imagination play dirty tricks on me.

 

 

 

Cabin fever makes us drive around with the radio blaring and the windows rolled down when the temp finally rises above 15 degrees.

Cabin fever makes me agree to a mid-week ski escape and then worry that we’ll be behind in homeschool on the drive home, only to agree to another mid-week escape the next week.

Cabin fever makes me squeal like a teenager on the slopes when the snow is fluffy, the sun is shining and no one can hear me.

 

Cabin fever makes me feel sorry for myself when the snow blower catches on fire and then I wonder if I’m really cut out to be a single person.

Cabin fever is probably what makes a beau from the past send an email on a quiet Sunday morning.

Cabin fever is what makes me wonder if there’s a possibility that it could work, even when his email is riddled with all the reasons why it didn’t work the first four times.

 

Cabin fever makes me talk kindly to the fire, coaxing it to life so that it might keep us warm and cozy on these long dark nights.  As I walk by the wood stove, I can be heard saying, “Thank you, fire, for keeping my family warm.  You are doing such a fine job.”  Jen and Will laugh at me, but we are convinced that the words help to keep the fire roaring.  I tried similarly kind words when I was married.  The fire responds, my husband did not.

Cabin fever does not make me wonder if I made a mistake by leaving my marriage.

 

 

 

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2 comments

  1. Hi Jesse,

    This is just what I needed to read tonight to find comfort in that I am not alone in feeling that winter will not relinquish her grip on the northern part of the planet. Weary, cold, and tired of seeing white pretty much sums up our view of winter about now. I think a party is in order when I see my first daffodil!

    I loved the ending too!

    Warm hugs : )

  2. Lynn,

    Thank you, and I’ll gladly take those hugs – for myself and Jen and Will.

    There aren’t enough warm hugs in the world – ‘specially this time of year. ;)

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