My Dear Lyzako,We're getting snow today, the second dumping of the white stuff this week; another walk to shovel and another roof to rake. Normally, my friend, winter bothers me not, but for some reason this one has been particularly troublesome. On days like this, though, I thank my lucky stars that the gods have conspired to force me into self-employment. At least I have no more twenty-mile commutes to nowhere to do nothing important while the traffic around me spins into ditches and walls, my world narrowing to a single lane, a single second of heart-thumping, white-knuckled steering.
And, of course...stress, stress, stress and even more stress.
Fortunately, I find myself with just a light day of work and nothing pressing. Having just yesterday deposited a couple of fairly sizable and long-overdue checks, I can afford the luxury of just sitting here today, watching the steam rise from my coffee as this morning's hangover slowly turns from crushing fatigue and addled confusion to a simple and glorious spiderweb of delicate pain.
It's Friday, the 29th of February, a day the calendar allows us only once every four years, and this is how I'm spending it, this gift of an extra Leap Year day: typing out another letter to you, watching that steam rising from the coffee, and wrapping myself in the precious warmth of the indoors as snow continues to steadily fall past noon.
Speaking of the calendar, I have to admit that it is causing me some distress these days. The rush from another unwanted Monday and a flurry of meaningless toil through Tuesday, then Wednesday, then Thursday, then a welcome Friday and the ensuing sigh of relief before I can get to the relaxation of Saturday and Sunday, reading aloud to myself, not shaving, barely behaving and forgetting about the world and all its woes... The days and weeks go by in a flash lately, as if I'm riding a bicycle ever faster, each revolution of the pedals pushing away a day as I pick up speed and the wheels spin me headlong towards the abyss.
Probably you've heard the bad news, espoused by all those elder folk we so respect: Time flies, even when we're not having fun, and it ticks by faster with each passing year. When I was a much younger man, I scoffed at their wisdom, but in light of the fact that I'm now approaching the half-century mark myself, I must say that time has proven them right. Somewhat ironic, eh?
I've made a pass at the walk already, just so my friendly neighborhood letter carrier can deliver my bills with ease, but another, more serious shoveling is due later today once the snow has completely subsided. According to the forecast, we're supposed to get as much as five inches.
I think it's time now for some soup, maybe some of that leftover turkey carcass stuff from Thanksgiving. I've had enough coffee and watching the steam rise from hot soup is a simple comfort, too. After that, I think I'll slow the day down a little more with a nice, long shower, maybe watch the steam rise from my skin for forty minutes or so.
And after that, maybe I'll take a little nap... or better yet, maybe I'll just lie there quietly in bed, close my eyes and picture myself riding that infernal Time Bike, daydreaming the afternoon away as I do my best to peddle the goddamn contraption backwards.
Very Truly Yours,
Rip Van Sherman
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