In the rare instance natural phenomenon catches me all uninhibited and full of wonder my vocabulary digresses to that of my nine-year-old self. I’m both slightly embarrassed and relieved there are simple things that still impress me, not that weather is uncomplicated, but it remains beyond the influence of ordinary individuals. It never snowed much when I was a child, and more than one holiday season was spent with air conditioning humming in the background almost but not completely drowned out by my mother’s cosmopolitan taste in new age christmas music.

With snow and ice, Saturday morning’s power outage didn’t come as as a surprise. We were fortunate with a small gas heater in the master sitting room and a gas range, we could have functioned for a few days if the power company hadn’t been prepared to clean up fallen trees and restore power so quickly.

There is this unexplainable instinct that afflicts some. It’s akin to the uncontrollable desire to slow your automobile when you approach a car wreck. People claim it’s in the interest of safety, and while that is true, they also seem unable to turn their stares away from the accident and toward the officers directing traffic. They want to confirm people are okay and their help is either needed or not, but the deeper part of humanity that pulls them in like magnetic force, is simply the desire to know. It’s almost incontrollable.

My grandfather and my father-in-law were both that way. Genuinely concerned about the parties involved but completely driven by curiosity.

So Saturday morning, sans electricity and sans common sense, my partner declared we should see if it were possible to reach the local coffee house for caffeine and carbohydrate refreshment. Fine. It’s so much easier to gloat in person than on the phone, and coffee would be a nice bonus, if I’m wrong.

We made it out of the driveway, but not much further. Somebody needs new tires. I mentioned we have a second car with better tires and four wheel drive, so we coasted back into the driveway and changed cars. A smarter decision, but not as smart as staying home would have been….but I know his curiosity is driving him and he simply must know, because it is who he is. We proceed without incident, unless you consider the absence of electricity at the coffee house an incident.

Returning home,I see kids with sleds testing out snowy banks and iced driveways and my inner voice is telling me to offer them cash for a go at a steep hill. I am hungry for it, but my adult self asks if I want to break my thirty-five year streak of avoiding the chiropractor. There’s a part of me that doesn’t listen, but as I reach for the door handle, a different voice reminds me my uncoordinated self would be viewed over and over on youtube.

Defendant:

Charges:

In the case of State of Sleeplessness VS. Hunter The Hunter, hereafter referred to as the Defendant, is charged with three counts of being deliberately nocturnal, and one count of non-consensual contact. The evidence indicates the Defendant intentionally slept ten hours a day to remain alert for long nights of loud and mischievous rabble rousing.

Exhibit A is one three inch rubber lizard found in the bed of the homeowner. The evidence in question was not present during lights out, but delivered between the hours of one and two am to the loud plaintiff cries of, “Meeeeeeeeeoooooow, Meeeeeeeeeoooooow, Meeeeeeeeeoooooow,Meeeeeeeeeoooooow…” other lizards have been known to follow as in prior charges, but were not retained as evidence in this case.

Exhibit B is one standard sized BB. The evidence was confiscated from the tile kitchen floor after a forty-five minute game of cat hockey, which succeeded in waking all occupants of the household abruptly when home invasion was feared to be the cause of “all that god-forsaken racket”.

Exhibit C is one popularly sanctioned cat toy that was deemed uninteresting for two months prior with the exception of the occasional bong hit on the catnip filled butterfly. Apparently said evidence became very interesting between the hours of two and three am, when residents of the home were awakened to the sounds of whacka, whacka, whacka… during an extended play session which lasted over half an hour until said toy was confiscated and placed in a holding cell (laundry closet).

The state will provide a disgruntled character witness to prove the Defendant engaged in non-consensual touching, or muffin making during predawn hours thus leading to a a hot and bothered plaintiff unable to return to REM, leading to series of unfortunate events resulting in productivity and grouchiness.

We were drinking coffee and sharing a pastry. Compared to the grey sky and the misty drizzle outside, everything in the coffee house warm and fuzzy, if you can call a store full of strangers in a the city warm and fuzzy. After several failed attempts at conversation, we drifted apart directing our attentions to separate things as people who spend many hours together do.

He studied the map on the wall, and pointed out places of interest (to him) and shared some of the same stories he has before, either to me or at me. I took to people watching, observing various postures, styles of dress, and beverage choices. The room was filled with interactions, some direct, most indirect, people like me watching without revealing they are paying attention.

I get the same sense of these strangers I’ve had of other strangers. It doesn’t matter what city, bar, coffee house, an airport, or museum, I always find myself feeling like the people I’m observing have it together, in all the ways I do not. I know I’m seeing a flash in the pan, a single moment from their lives, certainly not an adequate amount of time to entitle me to any level of judgement (as if we can ever know anyone that well or long enough to know all of them), but I can’t help myself jumping to the conclusion, they know who they are and they have life figured out.

During my salad days, the post collegiate ones, I lived in a shit-hole of an apartment. The flooring was cracked tile, I had raw sewage back up into my tub a few times before the landlord updated the pipes, all the neighborhood cats crapped in driveway, and there was a crack under the front door large enough to admit small mammals. At the time, it was awesome because it provided the opportunity to live outside my mother’s home roommate free.

The job that afforded my said shit-hole, was like many jobs when you are trying to establish yourself in a profession. Low paying. Life isn’t fair and most people can expect to pay minimal dues before reaching their goals.

To make things work, I lived frugally. I was fortunate not to have a car payment, and rarely ate out. I didn’t have internet, a cell phone, or cable. I’m not trying to poor mouth, or tell one of those awesome When I was a kid I had to walk five miles backwards in the snow barefoot just to get to school stories, because, frankly I’m not that funny. It’s more accurate to describe it as a When I moved into my apartment I was so cheap… stories, because I managed to save money living there.

Most of my furniture was used, recycled or in one case swiped off a loading dock. My mother graciously gave me an old TV. This worked okay for a year or two with a coat hanger for an antenna, but eventually it died. By this time, I was involved with the Better Half and I knew if he found out the TV was dead, he would go all guy on me and start checking online for reviews and taking me to electronic stores to find a replacement. Not that it wouldn’t have been a nice gesture, but the thing is, we weren’t spending a hell of a lot of time watching TV together. It would have been the IDEA of not having one rather than the necessity. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the dead TV. With a kick ass stereo, a stack of paperbacks, and a drawing table, I didn’t need one.

So I left the dead TV on the shipping crate that served as my entertainment center for eighteen more months until the Better Half and I chose to co-habit. It wasn’t until boob tube didn’t make the move that he found out out it hadn’t worked in over a year.

It’s time to revisit my salad days. Life ebbs and flows. It is time again to bring a TV devotion to a halt. Lately it has been serving as something of a surrogate to real relationships with real people. Blame it on the weather. Blame it on eating alone. Blame it on peer pressure. It doesn’t matter. In the end, it’s evidence of a lack of restraint on my part. Besides if have to look for something to watch, I should probably be spending my time on other things.

If you reside in a region for any length of time, the weather patterns become ingrained in your psyche. You anticipate changes in season, you feel the subtleties of temperature trends, and you plant or mate accordingly. It isn’t so much the forecast you rely upon as your five senses. You observe the flora and fauna behavior influenced by such changes and you adapt accordingly. Such instincts can serve a person well if the weather performs in a historical, predictable fashion.

If. Such a tiny word to express such a large sentiment.

Weather has been uncharacteristically below freezing since the New Year arrived. Those residing in Canada or near the Great Lakes feel justified in coughing, “pussy” under your breath in fratboy fashion. I know not what cold really is.. Still in a relative sense it’s been cold. So cold, thirty degrees F feels balmy.

This month has been filled with blankets, video games, and hot tea. For entertainment, I have spent many hours gazing at the bird feeder hanging outside the kitchen window. The birds it seems cope much better with cold than the rest of the housemates.