Over The Edge

Curing cabin fever

It’s kind of a tough time of year for me. I guess it’s what you might call cabin fever. This is when I have to get a lot of my inside stuff done. I’m getting a bit bugged-eyed staring at this computer.

Sharing my pain is my yellow lab, Maggie. She and I haven’t been down to the creek in some time now, and she’s a bit miffed about that. She takes it out on me by whining to go outside every 20 minutes or so. I also believe Maggie is in something of a sour mood because of what she sees as an unreasonable amount of attention being shown lately to another of her sort named Marley.

This cabin fever thing is kind of bad for the whole family chemistry.

Today is mine and Kathy’s 34th anniversary. You’d think by now I would have learned all of the lessons. I was quite proud of myself by avoiding future trips to the grocery store by putting a cantaloupe up to my ear and listening. I was bright enough to figure out that wadding up clothes prevents futher requests for folding them. The bigger the mess in the kitchen, the less cooking requests I get. And honest to goodness it was an accident, but putting the liquid soap meant for the sink in the dishwasher relieved me of future dishwater loadings. Hey, at least the kitchen floor got a good washing.

But somehow, I haven’t learned to keep “I’m bored,” to myself. Actually, that’s a pretty stupid statement. This is one of my busiest times of the year; it’s just that it’s all at the computer, and a guy like me needs his outdoor time. Still, I have recently uttered those dangerous words within earshot of my lovely bride, thus opening up a whole can of worms. The garage needs cleaning; my truck is a disgrace; I need to go through my clothes and give what I don’t wear away; Maggie needs a bath; and we don’t go out to eat enough any more.

OK, first of all, that cleaning the garage and truck thing seems silly to me, like making your bed; you’re just going to mess it up again. Wardrobe planning has never been an activity that I have become engaged. Who knows what I might wear tomorrow; I sure don’t. Maggie could use a bit of soap and water, but our relationship has been so strained lately that I hate to introduce the idea.

It’s funny how a dog you can’t keep out of the creek acts like a designed bath is torture. Afterwards, she tends to go around trying to rub it off on the ground, which sort of defeats the purpose of the bath in the first place. I always figure it is the mango-scented dog shampoo Kathy buys, but surely she understands that no amount of any solution can make a wet dog smell like a mango.

We are going out to eat tonight, but it doesn’t count because it is our anniversary.

Forgive me; this is all wrong. I am just taking all of my grumpy-old-man, cabin-fever, Alabama-lost-to-Utah, I-just--want-to-throw-this-computer-in-the-creek bad mood out on the ones I love. (Actually the computer-in-the-creek concept would appeal to Maggie … and maybe even Kathy.) No, I need to suck it up and get through the remainder of the winter, keeping in mind all the great things that are ahead. One of the chores I am now engaged in is the planning of next year’s shoots. We are heading to some cool places. I think watching the episodes that we shot last season in great places like Louisiana, Minnesota, California and Florida is what infected me with this malady to begin with.

Yeah, I’ll be fine. A night on the town and a glance at the calendar should be good medicine for what ails me.