Went to sleep listening to the rain. It changed to snow overnight, and stuck. It stuck so hard, in fact, that several branches have come down–a monster across the driveway (literally all across the driveway, blocking it completely) and a similar monster down over the dining room. As far as I can tell the roof is probably fine, and the window was missed…but a slat on the deck is broken and the fence will never be the same. The honeysuckle and hydrangea are not having a good morning.
The snow is heavy and wet now, and still coming down like blazes. The snapping and groaning of breaking branches echoes all over the neighborhood, and there was just a cascade outside my office window. All the rain weighted everything down, then the additional load of sticky snow is just causing havoc.
Ah well. I knew something else would come along.
I took the last four-five days (pandemic time is stretchy, I’m not entirely sure how many) off social media because I just…couldn’t. I hit the end of my capacity to absorb the world’s pain and felt something snap in my chest. I simply, absolutely could not, so I skipped all social interaction through the weekend. It was marvelously healing. So much so I’m wondering why not just extend it? But I have to be around on the internet to make a living, so…I don’t know.
Regardless, I don’t think I can do two livestreams per week; that’s just a loss of too much working time. They simply destroy me with anxiety. So I’ll cut it down to the Friday ones and hope for the best.
The dogs are a bit nervy at the sudden sounds, and I’m sure my sigh of, “oh, for fuck’s sake” when I viewed the damage in the backyard made them a bit apprehensive. Thing seem to be quieting down a bit–but I shouldn’t say that, should I? It’s just too much of a temptation for 2022 to prove me wrong, wrong, wrong.
At least the snow is pretty, and I won’t be running today. The dogs can wait for walkies because I’m not leaving the house in this bullshit. Boxnoggin would adore the chance to drag me after him Iditarod-style, over hill and under dale. Or however that goes. I could do with some breakfast instead, and maybe I’ll take the day to work on the werelion VC Andrews/Cat People thing. If I’m waiting for disaster I might as well write something that makes me happy in the meantime, even if it’s unpublishable.
Monday is Mondaying hard, and I can do no less.