Cabin Fever

By now I am sure all the cases of cabin fever have been cured.
The Great Snowfall of Twenty-Eleven sure was pretty the first day, then that crunchy snow got a layer of ice on top of it.

Boo, the dog, usually eager to go for a long walk, put one paw on the porch and decided he didn’t want to go that bad. He did master a way of walking on the ice eventually, dig those toenails into the stuff and don’t look back.

By day two or was it three, cabin fever was setting in.
How many home fix-it shows are there on TV these days? I did research on the computer, searching How To Cure Cabin Fever. Ah, their suggestions were read a book, take up painting as a hobby, long baths, get dressed in your winter finest and go for a walk, that last one was a joke.

All these suggestions were good, but my favorite was get out of town.

Finally, the roads were clear enough to go to town.
Usually it was a rather mundane trip, but not this past week. For an hour or more, I enjoyed seeing people, lingering in the detergent section of the grocery reading the labels on fabric softeners, “get that clothesline fresh smell.” Seems like I remember that smell from a place long ago.

There were a lot of people milling around town, probably all suffering from cabin fever.

The Great Snow is over. Ten year old children will someday tell their grandchildren, “why back in twenty-eleven, now that was a snow.”