At approximately 9:00 PM last evening, I swapped my slippers for an actual pair of shoes for the first time in days, put on my winter coat, and went outside for a blast of fresh air. I of course had an ulterior motive: to check the sidewalk situation. Nothing had changed on that front, so I cursed the snow-removal gods who had failed me yet again and returned home to catharsis-sew for an hour before having a bath, watching a sewing-related documentary with my husband, and going to bed.
In that hazy zone between awake and dreaming, I thought I heard heavy machinery on the street below. I envisioned a plow clearing away the snow—and with it my worldly concerns (or some of them, at least). The beeps and rumbles seemed just as likely to be the product of my sleepy mind, though, so I pushed aside the temptation to get dressed and go see.
I had a nightmare that I was trapped in a mall with no exits. I won’t attempt to interpret that.
In any case, I wasn’t overly confident this morning that today would be the day, not even after I pulled up PlowTO, entered my coordinates, and saw that longed-for green line. I’ve earned my skepticism; I’ve learned to be wary. Nonethless, I lasted only an hour until, almost without realizing I’d done it, I’d hopped on my chair and headed out to verify that the sounds of the previous night had been an auditory hallucination as my nightmare had suggested. You can take away my freedom, I thought, unsure whom or what I was addressing, but you can’t kill my spirit.
I exited my building still managing my expectations. Upon first glance, the sidewalk did some better, but it was too early to celebrate—the dreaded church parking lot remained out of sight. With every passing metre, I grew more and more optimistic.
And there it was, still sludgy but markedly improved. I carefully made my way through the morass, giddy with excitement, and drove to the Shoppers Drug Mart at the corner. There, I bought the (more) expensive cotton pads to celebrate because I could. The world was my oyster! High on the glory of regained independence, I set out for a victory ride, which was quickly curtailed since I couldn’t get to the library nor the grocery store due to horrendous sidewalk conditions. The world is my cheap baby canned oyster, not a fresh-on-the-shell Malpeque one.
I’ll admit that my initial elation has faded to mild annoyance. It’s nice to have a taste of freedom; it would be nicer if that freedom were less circumscribed. That said, I’m grateful to have been released from snow jail, even if I’m now on snow parole, and man is it cold out. Being limited in where I can go for a while longer isn’t the worst fate if it means that I have good reason to avoid risking frostbite.
De Morbo Sacro: Life and/with Epilepsy 