Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.You know you have cabin fever when winter boot syndrome kicks in by J. G. Fabiano
Every time I complain about living in Maine during the winter, people respond by asking why I live there at all when I complain about it so much. I tell them I love it for 10 months of the year but there are a couple of months during the dead of winter when I would rather be some place else. Correction; any place where, every time I left the house, I wouldn’t be afraid of the tears freezing in my eyes but, it’s not just the weather that bothers me; it’s what I have to do to survive the weather that drives me nuts. For example, during the early days of winter, when the first snow fall arrives, I eagerly take my boots out of hibernation in order to keep my feet warm and dry. These boots have long laces to tie them up nice and tight above the ankles to make sure no snow or ice can get in and freeze my feet. With my boots tied nice and snug I can happily slosh around in the first snow fall knowing my feet will be fine. After a few months of putting these boots on every time I have to go outside the thought of having to bend over to tie them up again becomes a chore. I find myself huffing and puffing as I wind the mile-long lace around the boot and then around my ankle because the replacement laces I bought were too long for this model of boot. However, the original laces have long since frayed away under the road salt and other ravages of winter. It seems to me by boots gain weight during the winter and once I get them on I feel like Frankenstein’s monster attempting to outrun the vengeful villagers. What makes these boots even more troublesome is when I have to visit someone’s home. This means I have to take them off before I go into the living room, which means I have to put them on again before leaving and tying and untying the same pair of boots twice in a single day starts to become annoying. The other day I left the house wearing a pair of sandals to go to the store. I just couldn’t bear the thought of putting on the boots for such a short trip then have to take them off again. I got some odd looks from other people at the store but a couple nodded and I think they too knew the tribulations of winter boot syndrome. Of course, the reason we have to take our boots off in the dead of winter when visiting a friend or relative’s home is to make sure we do not bring the outside in but, because snow and mud clings to pant cuffs, some winter still makes it into the person’s home. I know I have never not been able to bring mud into a home because, due to some law of physics that I have never understood, after I take off my boots there is always some mud or snow that clings to my person then jumps off onto the newly cleaned carpets as soon I walk into the room. Which may be why I don’t get so many invitations to visit my friends and relatives during the winter months? Winter coats are another item of necessity we learn to hate during the mid-winter months. Going from the light sport coats of autumn to the heavy coats of winter is a shock to the constitution. The weight of these coats ages our posture by about 10 years. I swear I get shorter and stubbier whenever I put on my winter coat. Like the boots, the coats seem to gain weight as winter drags on. Scarves also have to be worn under the coat so we can keep our neck warm. These are perpetually lost and when we discover the scarf is no longer around our neck it means we have to go back outside, with our neck unprotected, and search a frozen and filthy parking lot for what was probably a Christmas present from someone we don’t want to know that we lost their gift. (If you’re reading this, honey, it’ll be fine after a good wash). During the first cold snap, when the heat comes on we feel secure in the knowledge that we will be warm during the winter months. Hearing the furnace kick in gives us a sense of well-being because, for me at least, it brings back memories of when I was young and lived with my parents. I didn’t have to pay the furnace bill back then so I used to love whenever it came on and the house was filled with warm gusts of air. Today every time the furnace goes on, all I can think about is how much money the damned thing costs to keep it running. A fact about the furnace-heated home is that the air has absolutely no humidity to it. As soon as you walk into the house you feel your skin dry up to the point where you worry about it falling off, like shriveled snakeskin and there is no dandruff shampoo in the Universe that can compete with the dryness of the winter home. We tried the obvious solution of buying a humidifier but not only did it not do what it was supposed to do, it doubled the cost of our electricity bill. Every time we have to fill the tank that fuels the furnace it is a race between how fast the oil man can pump in the fuel oil and how fast the furnace can suck it out. #I remember once watching the gauge on my fuel tank barely move as the oil man filled the tank. The furnace seemed to be eating it up faster then the oil man could fill it. Household bills during the winter months increase exponentially. I am not even including the fuel bills, although they take up a huge chunk of the budget. I am talking about electricity bills that explode because the furnace not only works on fuel but also needs electricity to keep it going. Since there is little natural light during these days of hibernation lights are on more then they are off. Clothes driers seem to be perpetually turning because every time we go outside we have to wear layer upon layer of clothing to stay warm. The outside layers stay clean, unless we fall down a lot, but the inside layers get coated in sweat and can only be worn once before they have to go back into the wash. Water bills also go up because of all the extra laundry and because we have to drink more water to replace all the fluids we lost through sweating. The most unpleasant symptom of the deep winter blues is cabin fever. This syndrome makes the young feel old, the old feel even older and the quiet want to scream. The only way to cure cabin fever is to go out. This means having to put on those hated boots and heavy coats, layer upon layer of clothing and another wash load which means every time we leave the house we’re spending money. Every time I complain about living in Maine during the winter, people respond by asking why I live there at all when I complain about it so much. The answer is simple: Spring is never too far away.
The End.
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