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Sunday, January 17, 1999 By Barbara Cloud
What do you do when the going gets tough, as it has with this winter weather?
I know what I do. I face my personal demons. And I do it sitting in a chair with my remote.
I have watched more television in these past weeks than I can ever remember. But I also find myself cleaning house. That's the good news.
It should be good news for all the organizations that ask for household items, clothing, blankets and such, but part of the problem is that I gather it but haven't gotten it to the charities yet.
I'm still sorting.
So, when you are trapped at home with just your self and your pooch or your cat or your bird, you tend to allow your memories to swell in your brain, you criticize yourself, and at the same time you take stock and try to understand what makes you tick.
You also think about other people and wonder what makes them tick.
You write lots of letters and notes.
You look in the mirror way too often, especially since you fail to put on makeup or wash your hair. You have worn that same sweater all week, and your warm socks could walk by themselves. Change them, for heaven's sake.
How have you faced the isolation? If you work daily, of course, you haven't been restricted to the home fires, and if you are a person who doesn't much like being told what to do, such as stay home and off the road, you have more spunk than I do.
I hibernate somewhat.
As a senior citizen, my daring is minimal. I weigh the bad things that could happen, and they are often more weighty than the good.
So I get lots of things done in the house. Then what?
Holiday decorations are stored. The tree is but a memory.
Soul-searching is a good thing. Clearing the cobwebs is a good thing. Talking to yourself, which I often do as well, is part of the gig.
I find myself going to bed later and sleeping later. My routine of several days in a row with no obligations begins with making coffee, letting the dog out, feeding the birds, sweeping off the front steps, waiting for the mailman (who is not housebound, I hope), watering my plants and then cleaning out another drawer.
I should be tossing more than I am. As a ritual I tend to go through things, but I don't get rid of as much as I should. Much of it means nothing to anyone but myself. It will ultimately be tossed, but I suppose never by me.
Does anybody but me care about a dried gardenia from a high school prom? Or my father's army uniform, my son's 25-year-old crayon stubs?
I brought many of my late sister's things to my house, almost in a panic that they would be tossed without consideration, but much of it should have been. Will I do it? I am trying. Much of it means nothing to me, but much of it I am connected to, even by the finest of threads.
So I simply rearrange it. I'll think about that tomorrow.
It is only natural, in my solitude, that I would spend a great deal of time reflecting on our lives as sisters since she has been gone just eight months. The pictures of her at many ages stimulate my memories daily as they look back at me from the prominent positions they have with others I love so dearly.
Then we eat. Have you been eating as much as I have since housebound rules took over with the winter storms? Thank goodness I have the food, and I'm grateful, but it's all I think about. No sooner is my grilled cheese sandwich consumed than I wonder what my 3 o'clock snack will be, then my 6 o'clock and so on. Pasta is my undoing.
Nothing is going to fit. I often think I will try on my summer clothes and get a jump on things, but I am aware the waistlines are going to discourage me. I will wind up putting perfectly good, almost brand-new items on the pile for the giveaways. I must resist.
Can you go stir-crazy during the winter blahs? Absolutely.
You can also be reminded how lucky you are to have a warm house, ever so humble, and running water and something to eat, and a pet who depends on you.
And memories.
I'm one lucky gal. You better believe it. One lucky and heavier-than-usual gal, I should add.
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