We’re expecting snow again tonight. This morning, the physical therapist was stabbing me with an ice pick and panicking. I couldn’t actually see her, so I assume she was stabbing me with an ice pick, but she might have been massaging a particularly tender spot on the outside of my right hip. She said something astounding.
Angela: Snow days make me all stressed.
I’m pretty sure she said that. I might have been squawking like a jaybird at the time.At first, I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, since she and I just met. She seems kind of normal. She wears nice sweaters. She’s got nostrils. I hesitated for a second and when I looked over my shoulder Angela’s face was kind of puddled up in concentric circles around her nose. Then I yapped happily quite a bit.
Angela stared off into the distance. “What do you do on a snow day?”
I believe I may have yodeled. I have no idea since I would never in a million years yodel, but someone was definitely yodeling. I also said on snow days I bake something, exercise, read, play with my cats, clip coupons, shovel for a few minutes and make piping hot beverages, shop online, dress up in costumes and play games, and as I blurted, Angela burbled along with me. Bake…read…shovel…play games.She didn’t sound convinced. I blurted some more about checking on elderly neighbors, getting a little upper body workout with a push broom, calling people you miss, writing overdue letters, catching up on a movie, putting on music and dancing, wearing bunny ears, repainting the bathroom, changing the batteries in your flashlights, staying off the road and having such a wonderful time you raise the pulse of joy in the universe. I’m certain I mentioned little sombreros for the pets, too.
Enjoying a snow day seemed like an entirely new idea to Angela. I filed that thought away for the future, when I will work on her overworked psyche while she’s working on my increasingly cranky hip. We have six weeks, starting today.