Long Ago I Thought It Pretty
The snow is falling in flat, fat clumps
relentless in its assault,
as if driven to cover the sins
of all that came before it.
Whitewash to hide the black ice below,
veneer over treachery.
When you start writing bad, angry poetry, you know you've had one too many snow days. Like every other mother in the Continental United States, I've had it with this weather. In the beginning, I didn't mind the days off from school, because it lessened my load. Homework, basketball, play practice- all this takes up a considerable amount of my time, especially when it involves wrangling the ADD-ers. I like a lazy day as much as the next guy. But I don't think of snow days as fun. I don't bake cookies, and happily bundle up my kids to go play outside. I grumble as I get them ready, because I know as soon as the last one goes out the door, the first one will be back. And often, I am called to rescue someone who thought it smart to try and sled across the boulders and through the woods. I prefer the indoors.
But we've been inside so much lately, my laziness has turned to outright sloth. As I write this, I am staring at this morning's dishes. It's dinner time. I have no interest in picking up at all, because it's become an overwhelming task at this point. The foyer is so littered with gloves and boots, one can no longer find the bench to sit and remove one's gloves and boots. There is mail everywhere, toys strewn from one room to the next, and the garbage looks like it's being managed by the New York Department of Sanitation.
Speaking of New York, the Captain opted to stay in tonight, so he can actually get to work tomorrow. This is inventory month, and although he has returned most nights to our home, he's really been at work for the past four weeks. This is the most important part of his very important job, so I don't begrudge him. Mostly, I just miss him. We created this mess together, and it's more fun to clean it up that way.
Oh my God, the phone is ringing. It's the school...