This weekend, apparently, was a crossroads. (ETA: My mistake -- no apparently; last weekend [I'm putting this edit in the early morning of December 28] definitely was a crossroads.)
Saturday was the Winter Solstice, aka The Shortest Day Of The Year. From here on out the days are going to get longer and, supposedly, brighter. In some ways I don't think the Summer Solstice can come soon enough, with all the fucking snow I've had to clear. On the other hand, there is a romance to the season. Winter in many ways sucks, but the weather also is a sign of things turning down energy-wise. Not just the holiday season, a time for (theoretically at least) family and friends, but just also for life and for yourself. Things slow down, and for me, it slows down to a much more manageable level. The Shortest Day Of The Year, one in which there is (theoretically at least) the fewest amount of sunlight, means (theoretically at least) the fewest number of minutes where I'm expected to do something, and doing nothing to me is bliss. But from here on out we rev up our internal engines because there's a whole lot of daylight, and stuff we can do outside and stuff we can do, period.
I keep thinking about my temp job at the State Fair this past summer, where it was totally hot, obscenely hot, dangerously hot. As much as I enjoy the changing of seasons here in Minnesota, I did not, and do not, like that. But with the Winter Solsitce now behind us, we're hurtling towards days like that. The cold's bad, but the heat's fucking worse because you can put layers on, but you can't tear off your skin to cool yourself off.
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In the meantime, if my calculations are correct, Sunday marked the halfway point of my parents' vacation in Europe. The days where I have the run of the house to look forward to are now outnumbered by the days I had said run. And unfortunately, this makes me jumpy.
For one thing, I don't think I can make any huge plans anymore. Despite me having, oh, less than four weeks left, I don't believe I can, for example, break out all the Entertainment Weeklys I have stashed in my closet and seal them all up. It's a daunting task, one that will take weeks. And yes, I have that, but not enough, you know?
I have loved not hearing the sounds of my parents' voices at home, and doing whatever the fuck I want. I've got everything strewn all over the floors -- clothing, papers, magazines, my cum towel -- and I don't give a fuck. That's freedom. But crossing the halfway point means that I have to look forward to spending a few hours picking all that shit up, and then cleaning the house -- or, well, at least to a point where it's presentable. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding, I don't give a shit about cleaning the house. I'll just leave it dirty because I'd rather take the verbal abuse from My Fucking Father.
What I haven't really had is downtime. Really, I haven't. I can do things at my own pace in my own way now that I'm alone. But really, I've had committments that take up most of my time anyway. Work is one thing. Blessed that I am to work, sometimes I wish I could just call in sick and spend an afternoon doing nothing, just because.
The other major time committment I've had, I'm afraid, is shoveling snow. After we got socked a couple weeks after my parents left, we've been getting these clippers, about one to two inches of the fluffy, dandruff-type snow. But they've come about every three to five days, so I've spent a lot of time clearing the driveway and the deck. That takes a couple hours, which frequently means an evening after I get home from work is shot.
So too was Sunday. I decided to take advantage of what I think was the end to a surprise flurry this morning and afternoon to shovel. But just as I was about to get done with the driveway, it started snowing again. And then I saw on the news that there's going to be snow (a light amount of the light kind of snow) tonight ... and then Tuesday night. That means more shoveling -- as well as, I keep forgetting, walking outside every morning and continually being shocked and angered that I have to take a few minutes to clear my car of the snow that's built up on it overnight. Ever since the snow began this winter I have been consistently late because I don't get up early enough to warm up the car, clear the car of snow, and build in the extra time it takes to get to work. Maybe I don't get up early because I already wake up too early, or it's too cold, or I'm just doing it on basic lazy and stubborn principle, but I'm just not going to do it.
See, if there was less snow, I could devote that time to doing other things, like writing or catching up on alumni stuff, or, more importantly, sleep and resting in my bed -- which is what I finally did tonight. Alone. With the sound of the TV cranked up as much as I goddamn well pleased. And then I remember that, pretty soon, they'll be home, and I won't be as free, and I won't be as happy.
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