Snow Day!

I grew up in the Sacramento Valley in Northern California where it snows about once every thirty years or so. Ergo; snow days were just some mythical day that kids in other parts of the world go to enjoy. A day without school. Amazing! This was my first snow day, but I'm twenty nine years old. It was everything I imagined it could be and more.

6:52 A.M. Wake up in the guest room where I sleep nightly, apparently having conceded possession of the master bedroom to the squirrel.
7:24 A.M. Wake up a second time. Conclude that the guest bedroom gets too much light. Curse the sun for waking me up. Walk into the squirrel's room.
8:15 A.M. Wake up again. Make big plans to write. Conclude that nothing else can actually happen.
9:12 A.M. So this is what it's like to be unemployed? I wish I was playing a video game right now. I could probably do that for eight hours solid and never notice the difference.
9:37 A.M. Wake up again. What a crazy dream. I bet I don't forget that one for a while.
9:52 A.M. Wake up. What a crazy dream. Does everyone have the craziest dreams when they are only sleeping because it's a snow day, and they are barely sleeping because they don't have other shi to do?
10:07 A.M. Wake up. Another all-time classic. I can't wait to tell people about these crazy dreams.
10:24 A.M. Wake up. I guess I better go collect my unemployment check.

5:35 P.M. Sit down to write about the four crazy dreams I had. Concluded that I don't remember next to nothing about said dreams. Anne Lacy was in one of them. We talked about fiction.

10:30 A.M. Begin reading Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri who's main claim to fame besides being an excellent short story writer, is being attractive. Not exactly something writers pride themselves on.

11:15 A.M. Open the windows and stare outside at the snow. Shake my fist vigorously at said snow.

12:23 P.M. Have a sandwich. Congratulate myself on managing to make a half-decent sandwich. Mentally curse all the people who make fun of married men when they are alone. "Bachelor life, eh? Frozen meals."
"No sir. I had delightful sandwich with avocado on it thank you very much. Then I drank a glass of wine and listened to some Beethoven. Only some of that is true, but screw you anyway."

1:00 P.M. Decide to clean up the house in preparation for S's return.
1:15 P.M. What's the point in cleaning anyway? Remember a phone call from S last night in which she asked if people were taking their shoes off at our door when they came over. Try and imagine myself three thousand miles away at a busy work conference asking S if people were taking proper precautions with our floor. Can't. Is this really the sort of thing that certain people think about? I mean. I appreciate it and all, but it's just not something I would ever think of.

Imaginary Call Home:
S: How is your trip honey?
M: Fine. Fine. Are people using those new coasters when they put drinks down on the coffee table?
S: (Silence)
M: Are they!! It's driving me nuts. I can hardly focus in any of the meetings because I'm just imagining that little circle of condensation on my brand new coffee table. Answer me!!!!!!!

2:12 P.M. Decide to watch a movie. Pick out the movie based on its brevity. End up watching Somer's town. Decide that I like it because when British people say naughty things it doesn't seem as naughty. This is pretty much a well-known thing, but it's nice to have it reinforced every now and again.

3:24 P.M. If I know you, I may have had a dream about you last night, but I can't remember the specifics. No funny business in any of the dreams though. Just good old-fashioned strangeness.

4:22 P.M. Decide that it's time to take the trash out in prep for S's return. Put on my snow boots and conclude that my earlier foray into sweeping the floor was a waste. It was just going to get dirty again. This is my whole understanding of cleaning. Why should I clean my shower if it's just going to get dirty again? What's the point? Please insert some existential dread in the preceding sentences.

4:35 P.M. Arrive back at the house having tromped through roughly 26 inches of snow in our backyard. Try and imagine starting a nice garden in the frozen tundra of our backyard. Conclude that the better plan would be to start raising reindeer instead so as to sell the venison to people who can't get out of their house for food.

5:12 P.M. Whoops....Realize that I haven't started writing yet. But I've read 187 pages of a book, watched a movie. Swept the floor. Vacuumed the rugs. Loaded and unloaded the dishwasher. Emptied the trash and recycling.

5:14 P.M. Look back at my list of things that I've done. Suffer from mild depression. Why isn't, flew down the fresh snow on a saucer on there, or dug out an elderly neighbor? Or, hiked to the grocery store and made myself a quality dinner. Or. I guess that point is that with an unstructured day, at twenty-nine, I get sort of sad that this is what a day amounts to. Hell. It wasn't even ill-spent. Perhaps that's why we crave so much distraction in our contemporary society. Perhaps that's why it's harder to retire than to start working the 9-5. What are you going to do to fill up all these hours?

5:38 P.M. Begin writing. Script pictured above.