So far there’s been no epiphany in my state of media deprivation this week, but I can report an experience nearly as remarkable: a Snow Day.
Detroiters! What snow wimps. Yesterday, with barely a 4-inch snowfall and clear grey skies above, schools and businesses were closed. Honestly, nothing makes me more homesick for Cleveland than memories of those full-blown, blinding-wind, snow-drifting, Lake Effect winter storms, dropping sheets of black ice and 6-foot barricades in the driveway. With that you have something to work with, or at least your money’s-worth from the plow service. Here in Detroit, everything closes at the drop of a hat. (The Union Effect.) With all probability, yesterday’s snow day was declared for reasons more political than meteorological, because yesterday also happened to be a “Count Day,” a day assigned to census-taking in the schools whereby students are counted and allocations are made for the following academic year.
So I’m home for the day and what do I do? What any normal insane person would do, I go to work. Wearing pajamas ‘til noon, never leaving the house. This is everyone’s dream. I am living it, albeit in the Perfect Storm of media deprivation week, sworn off the pleasures of leisure, restraining from all temptations of TV, movies, radio, email, web browsing, magazines and novels.
Fellow Wayfarers, you might imagine the fervor with which I set my hand to Morning Pages. Followed by 3 loads of laundry. Then cleaning out the refrigerator. Then chopping ingredients for a pot of chili. All that before 8 am. With infinite choices of a full day ahead, there were serious matters to resolve. To shovel or not to shovel the walk, that was a momentary question, answered in the basement with a four-mile jaunt on the elliptical trainer. Followed by 40 minutes on the stationary bike, a shower and polishing toe nails. (Hey, it’s my day) 10 o’clock: time for a second breakfast, a fresh pot of coffee . . .when curiouser and curiouser, reading deprivation takes over, my mind drifts to writing - involuntarily composing sentences in my head. I am Alice – peering down the rabbit hole, tumbling down to the work I left on my desk.
And so it was: a snow day off, where I put in a good 10 hours at my desk. Was that crazy? Most definitely. But working on my own time and in my own space to meet a self-imposed deadline was wonderfully refreshing. It was lovely, really. And liberating enough to count as an Artist Date.
That’s it: my post-snow wrap up. More on Alice and madness. Next time.