See, due to my continued and unpleasant Do Not Wantness, that to this day is not making me a happy fun Sparky and much more of a downward-spiralling Sparky of doom.
The plan was to go away. We’ve been planning it for a while after Ann suggested it. Just get away, away from the family, away from the TV, away from the public, away from the internet, away from the phones. Away from anything that could trigger me, spork me, add to my stress or my headaches or my nightmares or insomnia or screaming meemies or panic attacks or creepy staring into space memories or any of the other fun things that has made my head so unusual lately.
And so plan was planned. Beloved found and arranged the location… and told me nothing. I wouldn’t be able to tell family members who asked (the chances were we wouldn’t be going far afield and could end up staying somewhere close to where the extended family lives – not ideal), provide contact details or anything. Beloved would take my phone and separate me from the net, he even talked about taking my wallet at which point I began to grow a little suspicious about what weird fantasies are running through his head and were we heading for a Misery-esque spooky holiday… but I digress
And then it started to snow.
A lot. Every day. For over a week.
And it didn’t melt – oh some of it did. Only to refreeze (Beloved has kept some of the more impressive icicles in the freezer. No I don’t know why. No, I’m not asking) to give us KILLER DEATH ICE under the ever deepening snow.
The snow is now bad enough that it would be risky for me to risk to trip to work. Bus services have been cancelled. The roads have seen no plough or grit or salt. You can’t even see where road/path/people’s gardens begin or end (except for where there are walls).
And the forecast says next week is going to be more of the same… I have literally, in all my life, not seen anything like it.
I then managed to wrangle out of Beloved that the holiday destination was “somewhere in north Yorkshire.”
I think we’d die before we actually made it. Worse, if we didn’t die and just got trapped and had to call to help we’d then have to tell the nice emergency people that we were going on holiday in the worst winter there has been in 3 decades to a part of the country that is the frozen depths of rugged (but beautiful) harshness at this time of year anyway.
And they would laugh at us.
So we would be totally trapped and have to freeze to death to avoid the mockery of the rescue services. We would be those people who go mountain climbing in January and always need rescuing – you know the ones, the ones that make you roll your eyes and yell “bloody fools” at the newscaster.
So we’re not going, which is, of course not ideal and kinda sad since I was beginning to look forward to it – but it’s not worth the icy frozen death.
We do still have the time off so we can spend it together which will be wondrous of course. So long as I don’t try to use the time to catch up on work (yes, I’m BAD at this).
But Beloved still wants to address the badness, which I don’t blame him since he’s had to deal with my being in messy bits for many months now with miraculous patience, tolerance and gentle kindness. But it’s probably been getting him down at least as much as it has been hurting me.
So, while I’m not on holiday, I am relaxing. And Beloved is threatening to confiscate my phone, computer et al to fulfil is his Misery-esque fantasies
I don’t imagine I could resist the siren call of the net when the computer is right here, for all beloved can do, but I’m not likely to be around much as we try to make a holiday out of our snowed-in-ness
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