Adding It Up
A friend was bemoaning her lack of achievement in the last week or so; projects that had stalled, things left undone, decisions to be made that had become burdensome.
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A recent conversation with The Neighbor went something like this:
Her: "I picked out a light fixture for my bathroom. And I finally cleaned out my fridge".
Me: "I blogged".
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A recent conversation with The Neighbor went something like this:
Her: "I picked out a light fixture for my bathroom. And I finally cleaned out my fridge".
Me: "I blogged".
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On Saturday The Spouse cleaned out the garage and made enchilada sauce. That night he went to bed and burned through a fever.
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It's January.
I always expect to be in a "fresh start/clean slate" mood the first week of January but it doesn't really kick in until around, oh, now. That first week is a loss leader. Too much effort is expended just in the mere effort of getting back into a routine. Plus, I really think that those of us in the Northwest aren't just dealing with the pleasant disruption of the holiday season. Everyone seems to be walking around in the same miasma composed of equal parts holiday whatevers, astonishing amounts of rain (even for Seattle) and post-storm recovery. It's taking all of us longer than expected to get on solid ground. Yesterday I'd just gotten home from church and went out in the north garden to check on something. My heels sank into the ground to the soles of the shoes. It was an apt metaphor.
This morning's NY Times had an article about how NW residents are looking differently at trees since the storm. That's certainly true for us. Seattle is one of the most wooded metropolitan areas in the country. We know they are there but they are part of the background. We used to take them for granted. Now The Child and I will be driving to school or such and see big trees and wonder "why didn't that one come down"? I notice a big tree in front of a house and think if that were mine I'd seriously consider it's removal. What used to be a noble, spreading expanse of carbon dioxide consumption now looks like a threat.
And even though there hasn't been anything on the magnitude of the Big Blow, we are still having windstorms and it's weird because we notice them. And we watch the trees. And we really, really notice when the wind stops blowing. I'm sure the skittishness we're all feeling will pass, eventually. But maybe not. Turns out, that whole experience was a big deal.
This morning it is calm and clear. The house is back to normal. Everyone is where they are supposed to be. Perhaps today will be the beginning of getting something done. I hope so. It would feel nice.
Labels: malaise, shoes, The Neighbor
cobbled together by Moi at 9:22 AM
5 Comments:
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I've got some pamphlets. Well of coarse I do.
That's certainly what I was experiencing right after the storm...kinda thought we'd be over it by now.
I love the word miasma. Snaps to you for a great post today. Hope you're having a productive afternoon!
Well I understand the feeling of "shell shock" that comes with an event like that. However I have no trees in my yard and sometime wish I had them..
My stepdad lived in South Carolina when Hugo ripped through the place. He sent me pics of all the trees in his backyard (and we're talking an acre at least) snapped off about 4 feet above the ground. It was shocking. Miraculously, his home was not damaged, but trees were strewn all about, and everything in his yard was flattened. When he moved to Raymond, WA into a house surrounded by tall, dense pines, he set about thinning them out, and removing those he felt were at risk of falling onto his home. I wonder how the house fared in the Big Blow. He passed away two years ago, so I have no idea, but I'll bet his prudent pruning kept the place from being damaged.
I hope you don't struggle with PSTD for too long.
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