Winter of Love

Guys, I am exhausted.

My one true love had to work on Saturday. I was up at 4:30am and came down with a cold. The girls and I did something that I wanted to tell you about but now I can't remember what.

On Sunday we had a conversation in which Mr. V said he doesn't understand the urge to post anything on Facebook, ever. The mood, it never strikes him. I told him I turn to Facebook when I'm feeling lonely or bored--stay-at-home mom hours, they are endless and lonsome. Reaching out for interaction like I do with this blog. Then I told him I felt facebragging was uncouth and he told me I was a snob. I told him it was very uncouth to call people names and he said 'uncouth' is a word full of snobbery.

In other news, I have this theory that most couples deserve each other.

Take that as you will.

I always say the third day without sun makes me start to panic and fear it will never return. We are going on what, six days? I went to the Walgreen's with my hair in curlers and stocked up on rock salt and Tylenol pm. Look, it seemed pertinent at the time. I hear the sun's not back tomorrow and I fear to think what I might do. I have a feeling it involves sobbing and chocolates and matriarchal tyranny. Winter is that torture machine from the Princess Bride and I am Wesley. I am broken. Where is my Fezzig? Wherefore my Inigo? When will they come with their rhymes and elaborate turns of phrase to put me in a cart and haul me to Florida?

Listen: on day seven of snow, when the sun still won't shine, you will realize yourself in dire need of salt and sleep meds to survive this snowpocalypse. You will drive to my sad little shack up in Longmont because you'll remember what I told you about the screaming in the Walgreen's. The yard will be empty, the swing covered in snow. You will knock on my door and find it pushes open beneath your palm.

I will have packed up my loves and followed that sun. We will be sleeping in some place scented of coconut and rum, of citrus and sea. I'm not here.

Help yourself to the rock salt.

I am Vesuvius and I warned you going in to this.