When even Joel gets cabin fever…

I don’t know what I’m bitching about. It’s been sunny and not all that cold for March; fifties and sixties daytime, twenties and thirties at night. That’s not bad for March.

But the wind has howled, day after day. I keep creeping outside to try and learn what’s been banging against the cabin and probably ruining the paint, but I can’t find it. I stare out the new rear window to watch chickens flutter. They’re even sick of it, and venture out from under the coop only to grab a pellet or two or go inside to lay an egg. I should check for eggs under the coop.

It’s the last week in March and the woodstove is still rumbling. Laid in bed this morning until almost seven, until the boys had had quite enough of my sloth, because it was cold and windy and why get up? I’ve done nothing for days but surf on the ‘pooter and re-watch old movies. Mostly I can’t get but halfway through the movies before giving up for lack of interest.

Yesterday was Saturday, the day D&L usually go to the dollar store because it’s coupon day. I had sort of a shopping list, nothing urgent, and normally they’d have called me to see if I wanted to go and I’d have begged off. Instead they didn’t call me, so I called them but the cell phones wouldn’t connect, so I actually got into the Jeep and drove over to see if they were going.

I never do that. And they had decided not to go; they’ve got family coming Monday and were engrossed in a major house cleaning. Compared to the Lair their house already sparkles.

Finding myself at loose ends and uncharacteristically dogless, I decided to take myself for a walky down a trail the cattle have been cutting into the nuthin’…

I was pretty sure where it would end up. That same herd spends a lot of time in a meadow across the road from Former Neighbor J and Darrel the Former Cop. These meat puppets are nothing if not creatures of habit, they even laid a coherent trail across the wash sand…

…and then up an easy rise and through a bunch of junipers to that very meadow, where the trail predictably petered out.

Normally this would all be very interesting – I’m easily entertained – but the wind kept trying to dry me out and then push me over and scatter my dessicated chunks like a week-old cowpie – which after an hour of this abuse was pretty much what I felt like.

So I stumbled back to the Jeep and went home to placate the dogs (Our motto: “I want out! No, it’s too windy! I want in!”) and spent the afternoon inside hiding from the wind. Any second now I expect my never-very-speedy connection to slow to dial-up speed (remember that?) just because I’ve wasted too much time on the ‘net and used up my massive 750 meg/month limit.

There’s a big pile of dry juniper in my yard, which I have promised to Landlady whose woodbin is pretty much empty. I really intended to cut that up this past week and haul it over there. I even tuned up the chainsaw, which has gone nearly unused all winter. Then the wind tried to push me over for the umpteenth time, and I said screw it and went back indoors.

Now and then I have to go out and pick up debris. I’m back to wearing layers.

I’m pretty sure I go through this every year at this time, but every windy Spring seems like the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s just a recurring phase.