No, not the folded-arms-foot-tapping-scrunched-up-face ‘did you ever’? I mean one of those days – who am I kidding, it’s been weeks – where ‘stuff’ just sort of happens? But it’s not ‘stuff’ you’d have looked forward to if you’d known what it was going to be?
It’s been that kind of March for me. T. S. Elliot wote that ‘April is the cruellest month’, but he must have lived in the Southern states because the last weeks of winter have been dismal. Weather has been making people grumpy, the cold has well and truly sunk into our bones, and the won’t-go-away snow just makes you want to curl up with a blankie and a hot chocolate liberally laced with brandy.
What makes me laugh (when I’m not grimacing in pain), is remembering Fred Sandford or some other geezer on television in the ‘olden days’ complaining of their sciatica acting up while clutching their lower back. Yeah, well, my sciatica is putting on a performance worthy of Olivier. It feels like someone is alternatively sticking hot skewers into my hip or setting fire to my bum. I had to go to No Frills this morning. I caught a glimpse of myself stumping up to the sliding doors. (Uh, did I lock the car door? Don’t care. Ya want the gas receipts, granola bar wrappers and the snow catchers I haven’t put over the mats yet? Clean the interior out. They’re yours.) Damn it, I looked like Jed Clampett from the Beverley Hillbillies, listing to one side and sort of dragging my right leg as if it had shrunk in length. The young guy who brushed by me to race to the display of day-old produce must have wondered what the heck I was chuckling about. Could be worse, my mother always said. And she’s right.
Life does go on, thank goodness. Baked a cake, did the dishes, folded laundry, started a short story. Opening up a package of Ocean Breeze reed diffusers to put in the powder room made me think of handling atomic waste. There was so much packaging (and of course, I cut myself) – cardboard, plastic, string – all taped up with those adhesive disks that you could probably hang pictures on the wall with, they’re so powerful. The sticks spronged all over the floor – reminded me of I Ching. Now I have to find a pair of small pliers so that I can remove the cinctures around the stopper. Oh well, I hope the stuff smells nice.