This winter seems endless. We have snow on top of ice on top of snow on top of ice. Every time we get sand dumped on our driveway, it costs $50. I’ve hardly left the house except to go to work. Just walking to the car is perilous, and even with 4-wheel drive, I’m slip-sliding away. I’ve had so many snow days off from school that I’ll be going until July. Plus, I don’t get paid for them, only when they’re made up. So June looks flush, but January and February have been frugal.
You’re reading this, bored out of your mind. It’s like the weather conversations in a romance novel, the protagonists killing time before they kiss. And how, you are asking yourself, is she going to tie this to writing?
I’m big on turning negatives into positives. My hermit-like existence has been good for my writing. This enforced indoor seclusion has made revising Waking Beauty less avoidable. It should be finished this weekend. But what will I do when the mountains of snow disappear and the robins are bobbin’ on the lawn? I may be tempted to stop typing.
Are you more productive in winter, cocooning at home? Want to complain about anything? Grumble away.
Winter is nature’s way of saying, “Up yours.” ~Robert Byrne