It’s so quiet here

It’s quiet here in the middle of nowhere. No sounds of traffic, of people rushing to and fro, no sirens, no planes/trains/automobiles, no offensively loud music…

side note: well, the offensively loud music part is sometimes a lie. Sunshine has a habit of blasting the local “rock station” that seems to think that rock music quit being a thing in the 90s. If I have to hear “Back in Black” one more time, I may pull out my hair. Not that AC/DC wasn’t great, but for fucks sake I burned out on them in the late 80s. I even vaguely recall going to see them live once in the late 90s, but that might have been KISS. I don’t remember, there were a lot of mood/mind altering substances involved back then… I digress.

Even though it’s quiet, it isn’t silent out here in the country fried middle of nowhere. The wind doesn’t seem to quit blowing, ever. The cats are always up to some mischief. The chickens make their chicken noises as they wander the yard. There are dogs yelling back and forth at each other all day. My dog barks at the cats on the roof and at the wind all night. The coyotes sing all night. Sunshine and Mr B putter around a lot, working on this project or that one. There’s always some sound hovering just under the surface, kind of like the hum of electricity as is races through the wires buried in the walls; not annoying, almost not noticeable until it isn’t there at all.

This last couple of days, with Mr B out of town to help his daughter move home, it’s been more quiet than usual. Part of that has to do with the absence of the family B, and part of it is because it’s so fucking cold. Nothing is stirring around much, not even us.

I’ve read a bit about people living simple lives, homesteaders, and the like who often struggle with the down time during the winter. There are no gardens to plant or tend, it’s too cold to work on projects, and so on…

I thought I was prepared for it, but the reality of it is rather jarring. I don’t think the fact that I’m sick is helping the problem any; in fact, it’s probably making it worse. I don’t feel up to doing much, even though there is a whole list of things I could be doing to keep myself occupied in little ways. There is the matter of my closet–I’m sick to death with having to do so much digging to get dressed every day, sick of the disorganization, sick of the climbing and contorting involved with choosing an outfit. There are the crochet projects I want to take on, most of them personal rather than gifts for others; they would clear out some of my stash and free up space for me to start hoarding yarns I want to work with instead of placeholders that I acquired when I cleared out somebody’s stash. There are plans for the small house that need to be fleshed out, and cabinets that need to be reorganized. There are piles of leaves that have accumulated outside.

You get the point.

So many ways to stay occupied, yet here I am fighting some illness that has my throat feeling like it got rubbed with ground glass and my head feeling like it could explode. I’ve spent some time getting into the Winchester brothers of “Supernatural”, but I can only couch potato so much before I start to hate myself for becoming a lump on the sofa. Even Mollie doesn’t want to do much; she sticks her head out her little Mollie-door and discovers that it’s still cold and grey and gross, turns around, and heads for the warmth and comfort of the couch again.

I did manage to do some research on what needs to be planted soon if we want to have a garden this spring. It didn’t take long, and now we are just waiting on some consensus on what to plant and the right timing to plant it. It’s time to transplant blackberries, but who wants to do that when it’s so cold and involves a lot of prepwork anyway. I want to practice with my bow & arrow so that I can graduate to Sunshine’s crossbow, but that involves going outside and it’s just too cold.

(side note: perhaps I should stop binge walking teevee shows: the Winchester brothers have given me an interest in flannel, and “The Walking Dead” has given me an interest in learning to shoot a crossbow and a rifle; but at least I’m not doing like Sunshine and pulling a Tony Soprano on a fish with a .22 handgun–long story short somebody caught a big fish and was going to kill it with a spoon to the head but Sunshine said it was too big and a spoon wouldn’t do the trick, so when he was handed a .22 to deal with the fish he unloaded the magazine into it because “it wouldn’t stop staring at me”) and I think I have digressed again. Being sick sucks because it’s so hard to hold onto my train of thought.

I don’t know if I can stand another day of straight couch potato-ness, so maybe I’ll attempt one of those projects sitting in the bag next to the couch. There’s a lot of leftover yarn in there that I’ve committed to using up before I start on the stash in the craft chest. A lot of the yarn will be used for projects that I can do while I catch up with the Winchester brothers, so it’s possible that I can kill a few birds with one stone while I’m stuck on the couch sick as shit during a cold snap that threatens to bring us some snow.

final note: don’t get excited about the possibility of snow. This is Texas, and it’s a part of  Texas where any snow will quickly turn into a slushy mess that coats the roads in ice and causes drivers to grossly overestimate their skill sets. I think it’s a good thing I’m stuck on the couch sick as shit; it gives my car a chance to survive the impending demolition derby that is heading to the roads near me.



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