Cabin Fever

After a week stuck in my home, amidst a foot (.3 meters) of ice and snow on my home's roof, and with snow and ice in the yard and covering the street, I feel like I want to break out and go...anywhere. This must be the cabin fever I always read about but have never before experienced. Living in swampy Louisiana for most of my life, I never was frozen inside, a prisoner of the winter. Even devastating hurricanes pass quickly there, allowing the survivors quick access to the outside.  But in this coldest winter in modern Portland, Oregon, the freeze is unrelenting and confining. When the snow came one week ago and continued through the next day, what would follow was, to this point and still counting, five straight days of temperatures well below freezing. There is no thaw because we are still in nature's freezer.

I have canceled appointments previous scheduled and can only look at my car, not drive it. It has the same .3 meters of snow on its roof, but I did venture out a few days ago to sweep the snow from the sides and windows of it. It was as treacherous as the walk I took this morning to see what mail I had in my mailbox, a community locked mail box area about 50 meters from my front door. The good news is a weeks mail included no bills! That walk was a near ice skate down the center of the street where the ice was compacted and more manageable for walking than on sidewalks deep with snow. I slid a few times but stayed erect, a  small but satisfying victory for me and a reason to forget my cabin fever for a few hours. But I bet some neighbor saw me from their windowed and bet on when I would tumble to the ground.

I wonder here in a snow prison. Do others have the same cabin fever thoughts, or is each person's different? And what about those who deal with snow regularly, snow of a larger equation than this. Do they out-grow cabin fever and not take offense at being inconvenienced by winter?  I find myself thinking about things that I should buy when I am freed from this snow prison. I make lists of them and have to remind myself that they are not essentials, but rather merely the ritual, milk, eggs etc. that we expect to have on hand and are troubled when not available. "Be patient" is my mantra. I worry about damage to my home's water pipes (when it finally reaches above freezing temperatures and thaws, I'll find out if there are pipe bursts) or if the roof or gutters are damaged after the thaw.

Occasionally, I see some foolhardy people drive down the treacherous street to where ever they are going, and I wonder if I should try it too. But reason takes over and tells me they are driving down the steep slippery mountain road on which I live because they have to. Their work, perhaps essential work, does not stop with a snowfall. It makes me gather what little reason I possess and tell myself that I will not drive an automobile that I feel unsafe handling. Instead, I read, I watch TV, I cook, I log on to the internet, or I nap here in snow prison.

I think those living in snowy areas would laugh at my frustration about my cabin fever, as I laugh at the reaction of those who have never been in a hurricane or suffered four meters of water in their neighborhood from a tropical flood. I shall pray to the thaw God now. Wish me luck.