There’s this definition of caving that I encountered while caregiving for my demented mother. Her psychiatrist (whom she had to see regularly only to have her meds prescriptions renewed, not for any actual therapy) described her bizarre behavior of shutting down and literally shutting herself up in the bathroom to just sit there like a zombie, as “caving”. It seemed like an accurate description. He’d be like, “So, is she caving lately?” and we’d figuratively wink at each other, while she’d be sitting right there, clueless. Then he’d prescribe more drugs.
This post isn’t about that sort of caving, although lately I can almost relate to it. Between the insanity happening around us, and the bleak cold setting in, sometimes I just want to shut down myself. Also, our tiny cavelike bathroom is the warmest place in the apartment. It has the “bear necessities”! I’ve already got all the blubber I need to winter over in there.
Outside, snow has been coming down for hours, covering everything. Inside, I baked this old-fashioned skillet buttermilk cornbread, and am seriously considering just hunkering down and hibernating for the winter. It’s in my nature. I don’t do cold, especially after working in it for decades. I really should have been a bat or hedgehog or something. Maybe a frog.
I’m even–the horror, the sacrilege–considering not composting anymore for the duration of our stay in Ohio, because what’s the point? This so goes against my grain, but here’s the thing. I dump a pile of garbage in the yard and leave the state, then they pave it over with a junkyard or toxic waste dump, or whatever. The environment won’t improve, and ignorant Trumpsters won’t give a shit.
Starting right downstairs with the neighbors from hell. They’re like ignorant peasants from the hills of Peasantville. Just the safety, security, and health issues they present alone are enough to fear for our wellbeing. Never mind the constant loud pandemonium and nastiness, day and night. It’s like the last straw for us, trying so hard to sustain ourselves while we sit out our remaining time. Even our peace and quiet is gone. We feel bad for their little children, who at least have an excuse for being infantile.
But not to sound like a shrew myself [note, I didn’t say Bitch]…just trying to keep it together until we have a place of our own, with some privacy. Just a small retreat from a world spinning out of control. Our family and select friends will be welcome there. That’s our humble dream of sorts.
OK, back in the cave with my bad self.