Many thoughts scurrying through my head this morning, and none of them really related, or maybe they are but I don't feel like analyzing them.
First off, though, is the cold. It is nineteen degrees Fahrenheit and the wind chill will cut you in two. But five years ago, I still would have hiked in this. Dressed in three layers plus a full length coat, I would have told you the cold was exhilarating. My hands would freeze even with two pairs of gloves, but I knew that would happen. And my feet would never quite thaw, but that was okay, too. I could still get my head to a decent temp, and with my face covered by a scarf, I could keep my nose from chipping off. The heat of my breath would warm the scarf, so I would avoid most of the illnesses associated with winter.
Fast forward. I am 41 and trying to get myself out the door. But the wind is howling and besides, the kids and I are going to the gym tonight. I need a refill on some medicines, but that can wait, at least until we go out to the gym. The pharmacy isn't close to our house. It's close to our church. Theoretically, I would have swung through the CVS drive through on Sunday, but I forgot, so now I am stuck having to drive to Manassas. My feet are freezing, even in socks, even in the house. This seems to be par for the course lately. I am wearing double layers plus a heavy robe. I switch on our gas fireplace, heat a cup of refried beans and try to get through folding laundry, but most of it is still sitting in the middle of our family room.
I am distracted, waiting for the garage to call about my van which is smashed and has been waiting for repairs over a week because we the stupid insurance companies involved are cheap. Even though it clearly was not my fault and the guy who hit me told me he never even saw me and that he has a blind spot, I'm stuck with meeting my deductible. Meanwhile, I have a rental van that I have used only three or four times because I am afraid to drive it. It's too clean, too new. And it has a bitch of a blind spot.
My favorite blanket, the one I use for napping, is in the wash, and I look forward to eventually taking it out of the dryer when the plush material is warm and soft. I realize I just split my infinitive, and I am making typos that I will have to correct before I post this, but that's okay. I make lots of typos lately anyway. I have to get my eyes re-checked and get an updated prescription because my vision has become worse and worse the more I work on the computer. Distance has always been fuzzy, but now it's more Monet than it used to be.
Does this mean I am getting so old that I am getting blinder and wimp out of facing the elements? I suppose people of all ages would do the same if they were not the outdoors type. Truth is, I find I enjoy hikes less and less because hiking used to be more of a solitary practice for me. Now I am less comfortable hiking alone and I find I get bored more easily. I am more reluctant to try new trails because I don't know where they will lead and I don't want to walk forever.
This never used to bother me--I liked the feeling of adventure. Now I don't care one way or another, and if I bring our dogs, I especially don't want to get lost because our old Shiba won't be able to deal. Besides, Sallie, who is a lot bigger, tugs as Shiba lags behind. It works better when more than one person takes the dogs for walks.
And so I ask again, what is wrong with me? Why has my motivation left and my laziness kicked in? Have I become more mainstream or just older and complacent?
By the way, my novel got rejected from a publisher of online books. I'm not going to market the book again because I don't care for marketing and for some reason, even though the book is pretty good and would be better with a professional editor, I guess I'm not interested in peddling my stuff. I have plenty of publications under my belt (though almost no money to show for it, which was expected), and again, I'm just not motivated.
What am I motivated to do? I guess I am motivated enough to take care of my children's needs, hug them, snuggle with my husband, cook and clean sporadically, make Christmas cards, write my articles, blog, think about my upcoming teaching gig (which will be at the jail, interestingly enough--my choice) and wonder if the facility will be under or over heated. I guess I might want to take a hot bath to get my body temp up (I literally need to do that lately--even hot liquids don't work), and I have to brush my teeth which I will do because hygiene is, after all, important. I'm not depressed. I'm just lazy. Or as my Mexican friend would say, I have "hueva."
Don't ask me to translate that. I'm too lazy to do it.