I don’t know why that still surprises me after fifteen years in Maine, but Snow Miser and his icy minions seem to sneak up on my every year.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I went out running in shorts and a tee shirt.
Sure, I still go out running in that same outfit, but now it’s because I’m having a panic attack, stripped down to my boxers and undershirt, and sprinted out screaming into the freezing night to get away from the Stress Demons.
Because Stress Demons are real and scary as @#$%.
They also work for Snow Miser, my eternal nemesis.
My brain tends to frost over this time of year as well. I have a well established case of Post Traumatic Snow Disorder, and remain under Dr. Jekyll’s care for this issue.
Last year, I wrote a series of posts dedicated to the 182 Days of Terror, which is how I classify the period from October 1 through March 31. Those 26 weeks are when Snow Miser’s wrath is at its worst, and I spiral into a funk of malaise to pack on the pounds and lose all focus and ambition.
There’s something about Winter in Maine that disrupts the steady flow of my Deep Thoughts. It’s as if in the meadow where my brain once functioned normally, the local children have gathered to build a thought snuffing snowman.
I’d like things to be different this year. I’ve spent the last seven months losing over sixty pounds, and I refuse to let all that hard work go to waste. Plus, it just wouldn’t be fair to the ladies. Winter is hard enough as it is.
So the part of my brain that freezes over and forgets how to exercise and eat healthy is going to have to remain thawed out this time around.
I’ve also got the RAV4 to transport me this winter when I’m dashing through the snow, so the part of my brain that causes me to freak out every time I get behind the wheel should be able to take a long Winter Break.
If I can keep those two key elements of the Winter of My Discontent under control, Dr Jekyll might not need to keep me so heavily sedated until April Fools’ Day to combat my Post Traumatic Snow Disorder.
Which is a good thing because one of the items I’ve been stressing over is the increase in my healthcare premium, and the corresponding decrease of benefits.
I honestly don’t know if I will be able to afford my weekly visits to Dr J, or the cost of my multitude of PTSD medications.
I came to the witty realization that if I had a dollar for every calorie I’d burned on my run, I’d be financially stable and fit as a fiddle.
How can I get someone to pay me for burning calories? It would solve all my usual Winter problems and give me some extra time to flip off Snow Miser.
I’m going to have the interns research this.
It’s weird, but when I started this post a few hours ago, I pictured it taking an entirely different direction.
I guess my brain thawing plan is working because this turned out much more positive than expected. You’re welcome, dear readers. Hope you enjoyed the great thaw!