Of Cabin Fever

In case you don't see my Facebook page on a regular basis, here's the latest.  I'm trapped.  In my own home.

We live on a street.  It's just that.  A street.  Not a neighborhood, not a subdivision.  A street.  Thirty houses that all look the same, separated from the rest of the world, or at least Shawnee.

And, as such, it would appear we do not warrant plowing by officials of the aforementioned city.  Thus, while the rest of the world* shuffles along streets piled high on either side with snow shoved kindly aside for them by their friendly neighborhood snow-plow, I find myself, along with my family, and all others on this blessed road without the likes of four-wheel drive, confined to walking distance (which, for an un-motivated girl such as myself, will take me just about to the end of the street) - and that through twelve-ish inches of snow and ice.

The funny thing is - the only reason this bothers me is because our grocery store is having some very decent sales this week and I hate to miss good deals.  [Taking a deep breath.]


Thus, when I boil it all down and truly analyze my motives I find myself less frustrated and more grateful.


Grateful that I have nowhere I have to be.  I have no travel plans being thwarted by this onslaught of winter weather.  No major life events I'll be missing out on.  And all the company I could want right here in my little haven of warmth (except when my husband, whose boss does, indeed, have four-wheel drive, is at work - at which point I'm missing a big part of the company I wish I had).


Meanwhile I understand that right now, this beautiful landscape of white, is but a fleeting moment.  One I enjoy not often enough here in Oklahoma (which is much further south than I ever gave it credit for).  And come next year, I'll be dreaming of watching the fluffy white flakes falling from the heavens.  So I rejoice.  I rejoice in the glorious beauty of creation - and in the fact that it's forcing me to slow down and enjoy this moment.



*I do recognize that it's highly unlikely we are the only location isolated by the likes of the insensitivities of the Shawnee snow-plow operation, but as I have limited experience with the extent of the shunning, I'm working on assumptions here - so keep that in mind as you attend my poorly-planned pity party.