It’s nice to know someone would call the police to check The House on the Hill for a frozen corpse should I not post a silly story on the internet for an extended period.
The truth is I’ve been freezing my ass off inside this unrelenting snow globe that the rest of you call Maine.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Maine, but I don’t refer to its winters as the 182 Days of Terror just because I like the way that phrase rolls off my tongue.
Yes, winters have become much less stressful now that I’ve overcome my almost paralyzing fear of driving in snow. But my Post Traumatic Snow Disorder hasn’t disappeared completely.
Now it just gets riled up when the temperature drops into the single digits. It was so cold today that cars were refusing to start in the parking lot at work. I don’t know if it was because the batteries had died from the frigid temperatures, or because the cars had simply frozen to death.
I mean, this is Stephen King Country after all, so we all know cars can come to life. Which means they can die as well.
At one point, I stupidly ran outside, without my coat, to catch up with someone who had left behind an item in the office. Those two unprotected minutes in the New Ice Age, cost me three toes and the tip of my nose.
Don’t look at me! I’m hideous!
Clearly, that is not a photo from today. In that one, I was smart enough to wear a jacket. But how smart can I truly be if I root for the Jets?
And look at the old glasses. I think they stopped working after that day because of frostbite.
I’ve been pretty bold the last two winters, and have maintained my running schedule despite the snow, ice, and cold. This winter, though, I’ve lost my drive.
It’s just too damn cold and slippery to run. I’m still getting out there, but not as often, and I don’t have the internal fire to put up the distances I once did.
The fire died from the cold, I guess.
And it doesn’t help that the city refuses to plow the running path by the river. I really love it down there. It’s well lit, the views are awesome, and there are no cars to dodge when the roads are slippery.
I still brave the slippery conditions, despite my King Klutz status, but I don’t run as far as I really should to maintain the sexy runner’s legs and butt that drive all the ladies wild.
And when the clouds finally run out of precipitation, temperatures plummet.
But the Wrath of Snow Miser isn’t the only reason I’ve been the Invisible Modern Philosopher of late.
I’m hard at work on the novel based on this year’s Halloween short story. It has totally consumed every ounce of creativity in my body, so there’s nothing left other than the occasional angry rant to post for your reading pleasure.
Since the novel is based on something that originated on the blog, I feel like I am still doing the Modern Philosophers’ work and spreading Deep Thoughts.
In fact, my writing style for the novel has been “really long blog post”.
I’m six chapters deep now, and pleased with my progress. I’ve turned 1,000 words and two characters into over 60 pages and a half dozen characters.
I’m sorry I haven’t provided reading material for you this year. No, my New Year’s resolution was not to blog less. If you’re patient, you will have plenty of reading material once the novel is done.
I don’t know why I fought watching the show for so long because I absolutely love it.
I’m despondent over Amy Pond’s no longer being on the show, but I sleep better at night knowing there are still Amy episodes out there that I’ve yet to watch.
If you’re keeping score at home, Amy Pond has officially replaced Rey as my nerd crush. Plus, I’m angry at all of you for not telling me about her existence!
Well, it’s time to crank up the heat again. In the time it’s taken me to write this post, the temperature has dropped to -50. Okay, that’s just a guess, but I’m pretty good at this kind of thing.
Thanks to everyone who wrote to ask why I wasn’t blogging. I assure you I’m fine, but feel free to send Snapple and whoopie pies to The House on the Hill…