Trip, Don't Fall

I talked to my mother this morning (read: she woke my punk ass up, as usual) and she told me that she has over 6 feet of snow at her house. She then went into a 30 minute dissertation on all things snow related, reminding me every few minutes that she cannot leave her home and so on.

I smiled. And then I kept smiling. Now I am smiling like a fool.

Small things, like the memory of having a ridiculous amount of snow and all the fucking crap that came with it (like my mother and her complete willingness/demand to make other people take care of everything, like getting fire wood (Not just out of the wood pile. Like, cut down a tree and bring it to me.), shoveling and plowing snow, building fires for heat, doing laundry, making sure the pipes didn't freeze, the care for the animals, oh, and, of course, running her business so she could have money to drink and smoke and drug away.) and the knowledge of the fact that I DON'T HAVE TO DO THAT SHIT ANY MORE EVER EVER EVER. It is like the lining of my brain hugged me.

Not that that made any sense.

Don't get me wrong--I don't like the idea of my mother being snowed in. Many, many things could go wrong with that, and the repercussions could be dire.

But dudes? Thrills me to no end to know that rather than shoveling 6 feet of snow etc. today, I am going to the city. (I'm groggy and kind of plugged up and tired and haven't had any coffee yet, and T just wandered out of the bedroom looking like a zombie, but I would rather be/have all those things in the car for a few hours than to have none of those things and have to deal with winterizing my mom.)

I'm like, uber ready to not be ill any more. This bug, it clings! to me. Loves me, doesn't want to leave.

Anyway, here's to traveling with minimal problems today.