Tag Archives: cabin fever

Quick Call the Doctor. I Think I Have Cabin Fever.

Just kidding.

Just kidding.

Part 2 of My Reader’s Suggestions.  This one is about Cabin Fever.  Because when we can’t get out, that’s what it feels like.  A damn fever.  A fever that will not go away.  No amount of Motrin can help either.  Believe me.  I tried.

If you live in the Northeast like I do, hell, if you live anywhere besides Hawaii, you have suffered the effects of this crazy winter.  I will almost bet there is an epidemic of Cabin Fever going on all over the country.  As for me?  I’m just about at my wit’s end.  I can tell you that.

I’m not a skier.  I’m not a sledder.  I’m not an outside in the cold kind of person in any way.  I secretly feel blessed when I ask the kid if she wants to go outside and build a snowman or make snow angels and her answer is, “heck no.”  Thank the Lord.  Following in her mom’s footsteps.  That’s good, right?

So, now if it isn’t bad enough, I have a disgusting head cold.  Disgusting.  With snot, phlegm, the works.  I feel like crap.  Which translates to not wanting to leave the house because I don’t have the energy.  But at the same time, I am beyond bored out of my gourd.  The Kid wanted a drive over to a friend’s house last night.  Even in my fog, I jumped at the chance to actually breathe a little fresh air.  Even if I was just going from the garage back to the, umm, garage.  Hmmm.  I feel duped.  How did that happen?

Anyway, how do we cure the dreaded Cabin Fever?  You know, if you don’t ski, sled, ice fish or partake in any of the fun outside snow activities you can do?  Damn.  Even if you do do those things, it’s just too damn cold out.  Unless you like frostbite.  But I’m guessing you don’t.

I’ll tell you what I have been doing:

There are 10 billion channels on cable.  Yet there is nothing on.  I have become a Facebook stalker to the creepy extent.  My brain is so fuzzed up from mucus plugs and television radioactive waves, that it can’t think.  So, in my attempt to write, I sound like Justin Beiber on pot, tequila and prescription meds.  You know…stupid.  (Yeah, yeah.  You’re all sick of hearing jabs about JB.  But I haven’t said a thing about him yet, so I’m allowed.)

I could play a game with The Kid, but I haven’t.  And don’t really want to.  I mean, I will if she asks.  But I’m hoping she doesn’t.  I could get up and go on the elliptical.  But that would mean I would have to remove myself from the position in which I have been for the last 3 days on this couch.  And the indentation from my butt in the leather is at such a comfort level that if I move, I fear losing that.  Besides I don’t feel good.  But I mentioned that.

I could walk to a neighbor’s house.  But I’m afraid of the cold freezing my nose hair to the point where they break off.  And we need our nose hair.  Don’t we?  But I could go there with my hairless nostrils and drink wine and sit by her fire and bitch about stuff only we girls can bitch about.  But I don’t feel good.  But I already mentioned that.  Three times.

So, this reader of mine with the suggestion to write about Cabin Fever?  Sorry.  I think I just completely disappointed you.  I cannot help in any way.  Well, I did attempt to clean out the toilets before I got sick.  I even stared at my closet to organize it.  But I just stared.  That, by the way, was my second attempt.  Three time’s a charm?

It seems I’m not the best person to ask about Cabin Fever.  Probably because I’ve got it so bad, I’m delirious.  But it was fun talking about it.  And getting it off my chest.

So, stay warm everyone.  Only 146 more days till summer.  I think.  I may have forgotten how to count.  Actually, I just cheated and looked on-line at one of those countdown sites.  Because I believe I have forgotten how to count.  That’s what happens to frozen mucus brain.