When it snows, I want to be home under one of my fluffy homemade afghans, sipping my vanilla almond tea and enjoying a good book. I do not want to be driving around town, and I most certainly don’t want to be thinking about the necessity of going out yet again later on when the step-daughter finally gets done at work. Nevertheless, that is my life tonight, and I am, admittedly, a tad resentful.
I am a homebody, but more than that, I’m a homebody with a dream that–truth be told–simply cannot happen fast enough. I’ve spent the past couple years honing it down to its particulars, and my husband has heard it at every stage and agreed with my ideas. Yes, he says, when the kids are gone we’ll move north, where the cold is. But it has to be a pretty place like Maine, not a soul-suckingly plain place like North Dakota. (I’ve never been to either, but he assures me that the latter should definitely be avoided.) Our house will need to be on one level because odds are, we’ll have with us both of the moms, neither of whom do well with stairs.
We will endeavor to leave this cozy, single level home as rarely as possible. The fact that we have well over a thousand movies and ebooks as well as 50,000 music files makes us believe that we are not likely to become bored. But if we do, we also have a shit-ton of board games, and the moms are both rummy prodigies. On the more practical side of things, the two of us are currently in the process of learning to eat the same things over and over again without minding at all. We call it a healthy vegan diet, but really, we’re training our guts to survive and thrive on brown rice and quinoa, black and garbanzo beans, diced tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and broccoli. It’s a cheap diet, sure, but it also stores well which means that logistically, we can go a long time between visits to town.
I don’t think I knew this before, but I guess I’m a tad antisocial. Maybe I didn’t start out that way, but people really piss me off and life hasn’t always been kind these past few years, and I’d rather just not deal with most people. I have a small circle of folks that I’d prefer not to do without, but outside of them, yeah, I’d be totally cool with moving into a cozy house in the middle of nowhere and venturing into public as infrequently as humanly possible. Luckily, I married a man who may be even more antisocial than me. I mean, he’s nice and funny and everybody loves his silly ass, but at the end of the day, he’d rather be shut up in a house with his wife, good coffee, and a season of NCIS than anything else, and honestly, I quite like that about him. What he likes most about me seems to be that I share at least a few of those interests.
Anyway. On snowy days when I have to be out and I’m worried about my sweet husband coming home super late from work on roads that are likely to be slick, I just really long for our probably-won’t-ever-happen cozy Maine future and a time when we can stay in and let the cats use us as pillows all day long. But until we get there, I guess I’ll just have to make do with superior hot tea, warm afghans, and some seriously awesome delusions.
One day, we won’t have to see people unless we want to.
You gotta admit, that’s one hell of a dream.