I’m having one of those days to end having one of those weeks.
You know the days I’m
talking about – I don’t want to get off the couch, I don’t want to do anything,
I don’t have any motivation, and I am too lazy to even make a sandwich. I’ve had a long week of running to sports
events and trying to play catch-up at work because after missing so many snow
days my curriculum is shot to hell. On
top of it all, I just don’t feel completely right.
I start out with the best
of intentions. I have errands I should
run, should being the operative word,
but I can’t motivate myself to do them.
I should go outside and finish chipping the ice off the walkway, maybe
shovel out my trash cans after four weeks of them buried under snow on the
patio, but my elbows still ache from last Sunday’s driveway ice-chopping
session. I should clean the house, but I
lose all motivation after sweeping and mopping up dried salt and mud off of my
hardwood and tile floors. I finally make
myself some pasta and veggies for lunch, but I never get around to making anything
for dinner.
I think I may well have
hit the wall.
I am standing in my
kitchen, trying to get motivated to maybe pay some bills or even get out of my
sweats and run over to pay the rent to my landlords in the front house, when
suddenly a tremendous sound shatters the quiet of the afternoon. The house shakes a bit, and I jump. I know I am making a whimpering sound from
the intake of my own breath as I back across the kitchen until I am up against
the counter. I don’t know what the heck
is happening, but I am instantly worried that my furnace is about to blow
up. I haven’t heard this loud
house-moaning since our ground-jarring earthquake a short while back.
Without any further
fanfare, a huge packet of ice and snow slips off the slanted roof above my head
and crashes down in front of the windows where I am standing. The odds of me being in that spot at that
exact moment must be infinitesimal. I
can barely believe what I am watching, and I suffer another brief moment of
panic when I sense that the giant blocks of ice miss crashing through the glass
panes by mere centimeters.
Holy crap.
I open the back door to
look out and realize that my patio is now under two-plus feet of packed snow
topped by one sheer ice chunk the size of an old Pontiac. The fact that this massive piece of nature
left my fence intact (or so it appears since I can only see the top six inches
of said fence) will be one of the great winter mysteries of 2015.
The excitement and terror
of the ice dams giving way exhaust me. I
mix up a gin and tonic, grab a book, and hunker down on the living room couch
for a few hours to read and watch the Bruins game. If I weren’t motivated earlier, I sure as
shit am not motivated now. After that
adrenaline rush, I might even need a nap.
Damn good thing it’s not snowing
for a change, and damn good thing I wasn’t on the patio trying to dig out my
trash cans when the roof pack let loose.
Turns out being unmotivated may have saved me a concussion today. Apparently, hitting the wall has saved me from
being hit by the roof.
