I was in my cabin, My cabin is someplace I can do things on my schedule, or lack thereof.
My cabin does not make me feel useless because I can't do ALL that I used to.
My cabin lets me do what I can do for a few hours a day.
My cabin is my house, it has my smelly old dog and a cat that would not come to me if I was covered in catnip. It holds my workshop, my old cars, it holds me ability to stop when I want to and start when I feel like it.
Snow, does not bind me to my cabin or cause me to become feverish, it does on rare occasion close my work place. Allowing me to stay there, home, were I can be me, as much of or as little of me as I want to.
Work, is a 4 letter word, it traps me, it has me dwelling in my disability, knowing that if I choose to do those things I feel I should, I will suffer the consequences. Work, takes my seconds, my minutes and they become hours, yet they pass as if they are months, years.
I think sometimes that to be, is to suffer, as I seem to find no joy in a large percentage of my life, yet, it goes on.
Cabin fever? oh, if it were only so simple...
I started to post this under Cabin fever, but thought perhaps it was a bit much and not really going to belong there. I find myself dwelling a lot on this state of "living" I seem to be doing. I'd call it more "waiting". The thing is, I know not for what I wait, I fear I will either not know it when it arrives, or rather I will turn it away from my door. Perhaps I already have?
Or, it could be the snow,ice,snow,ice,more snow, more ice we have gotten this last week.
I miss me, Has anyone seen me? Please tell me to come home.