Thursday, November 20, 2014

Tunnels Uphill Both Ways

I'm falling asleep at my keyboard. It's 2:12 in the afternoon and already it's dark out. Not really, but it feels like it. The chili was warm and the cheese melty. It's cool outside, but not quite cold and there isn't any snow. There isn't even any frost heave left. It melted. Maybe I should be glad about that, what with the climate change ice age that dropped on Buffalo, New York. I know those people are used to a lot of white weather, but eight feet of snow - that's just apocalyptic. Jesus, doesn't anyone else know where we're all headed when women are speaking of how the snow burst her front doors open and people had to dig tunnels so their dogs could poop. We're going to have to immigrate to Mexico to evade the cold. Won't that be a switch? What movie was that from? I know immigrating to Mexico to get out of the cold was in a movie, but I don't remember which one. Dennis Quaid.

Mike told me it was 'The Day After Tomorrow.' He remembers everything.

Will our weather continue to shift, to become more extreme? Will our children have a wildly different life that ours? Will they remember when, in stories for their children, they had to tunnel a mile in the snow to get to school and it was uphill, both ways?

I'm telling you.

By the way, they might need different tunnels for school than the ones they dig for their puppies. Just saying.

With even a tenth of the snow that Buffalo got, the folks here in the Pacific Northwest shut down schools, businesses, and roads. It's the hills, the inexperience, and the shortage of plows that does the job. In the meantime, it's dark and cozy here. Our cold weather broke and we finally had rain. The clouds fell out of the sky and laid down on the mountain ridges. I love when they do that. It gets dark so much earlier here than in the Midwest where I grew up and even though it's only late afternoon, I feel like snuggling down under four or five quilts. The only problem with this is that I don't actually sleep more. You'd think I would.

It's the life of an insomniac, using the TV and books for company while everyone else in the house is asleep. Actually, we have two insomniacs in our house, Mike and me both. You'd think that would end in cozy nights with each other and TV for company, but since we both work so hard not to wake the other and we wake at different times, we sneak into different rooms in a lame attempt not to wake the other and face the abyss of a long night that feels alone anyway. And then at 4:37 in the afternoon, I find myself falling asleep at my keyboard and feeling anxiety about people on the other coast.

Oh God, I was going to do something and now I can't remember what it was. 

Isn't it a bitch sometimes?

Thank you for listening, jules

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