The Arctic Plunge

I got on my boots and laced them up. I got on my earmuffs. I got on my parka, grabbed my camera and opened the garage door. The cold air slapped my face. I hadn't felt it since Saturday and that had been okay with me. Cabin fever isn't something I fear. I fear aching arthritic joints.


The driveway looked icy. I decided to walk on the snow down to the mailbox. Bringing in the mail is Honey's job, but he was napping in his chair and looked pretty content. I hadn't been out since Saturday, so what the hell, I'd take the Arctic plunge. I had been in cyberspace most of the day and making a couple of batches of meatballs, my contribution to the Ersatz Christmas party on Christmas eve. In the kitchen cooking the last three snow days, it was time I took a look at what everybody was talking about.

The talk had been ugly, but the world was beautiful. The snow was a deep blue; the sky, azure. The sun brilliant as it was beginning its descent. The street had been plowed. The front walk where nobody walked was shoveled. Surprisingly,I hadn't heard a thing. Except for the dishwasher, everything had been quiet until the crunch under my boots.

The tricky part of my journey was at the mailboxes. I had to step in the street to get around to the front and that looked a bit hazardous. There was a big pile of snow to jump over. --I used to jump, loved to jump, but jumping doesn't work for me anymore. I opted for one big giant step across, faced front and yanked the door down. Nothing. Nothing for us.--Nothing for the neighbors. All three boxes were dark as caves. Sunset and the mail hadn't come yet. Tuck it. I trudged back to the house. It was nearly wine time.