I called my son yesterday, who is in L.A. on the sunny campus of USC, and he didn’t answer. He was, as I suspected, doing something fun outside. He called back a few minutes afterward to confirm that why yes, he was indeed outdoors, playing a round robin charity game of kickball.
Right now the only thing I’m kicking is myself for is making the choice to live in this God-forsaken frozen wasteland. I used to like this town, but now that it’s become part of Siberia, I’m having second thoughts. With my daughter graduating from high school next year, I am seriously thinking about how we could live somewhere warm for the winter (or for the whole damn year). There are a lot of people and places I would miss if I were to leave Boston permanently, but who can see them when you have 95 inches of snow? Who can do so much as empty the garbage when it’s four degrees outside? Who can save money for the good stuff when you have to spend it on the icicles that are threatening your home’s welfare? At some point, you have to ask yourself about your quality of life, and decide what makes sense, right? At some point, you have to make a choice about what’s best for you.
Yes, I am seriously lacking in vitamin D and in a less than sunny mood about the fact that I can’t walk outside for more than two minutes without turning into Frosty the snowman. Yes, I am a little testy, having had this hacking cough and drippy, swollen face for a month, despite antibiotics and kick ass cough medicine. And yes, I may have lost my gratitude for today. There, I said it.
I keep telling myself how lucky I am not to be homeless, that I am a freelancer who doesn’t have to rely on public transportation, that we have ample food. But let me explain my state of mind this way: I watched an informercial on a curling iron at 3 AM the other night and I ordered it. OK, DO YOU GET IT NOW? Here’s to hoping your day is at least 20 degrees warmer than mine.