In Defense of Being a Shut-In

The last of the Stumptown and a pot of catnip. We have our priorities straight.

On the off chance that you haven’t heard, winter officially inserted its icicle into the neurotically clenched sphincter of New York City on the day after Christmas. It was an impressive blizzard, to be sure; but I can’t understand why it has so completely paralyzed the city. It’s strange, because there have been at least four storms that have brought more snow since we’ve lived here. But there has never been anything like this, for example.

Thousands of people are still stuck at the city’s airports; the vast majority of them are tweeting every few minutes about how annoying all the other stuck-ees are.

Taking pictures makes me hate winter a little bit less.

Even now, I’m typing to the sounds of the wailing engine of the third vehicle that has become stuck in front of my building today. There is also a wailing baby, which may or may not be related.

I myself have successfully avoided setting foot outside since December 26 at 1 p.m. and that was just to go up the block to feed my friend’s cats. It turned out to be an unnecessary trip, because her housesitter had already arrived. So it was embarrassing when I flung open the door to her apartment and said, “Hello kitties!” in my enthusiastic cat-talking voice. It could have been worse?

Sadly, I just brewed the last of the Stumptown Coffee, which means that I will be forced to leave at some point within the next 24 hours. On the bright side, it’s a chance for those giant snow boots that take up an inordinate amount of space in my closet to earn their keep.

If you’re wondering about #reverb10, the prompts for the past two days have been uninspiring, mostly because I’ve already addressed the prompted subjects. I was considering writing about how having a clean kitchen gives me a huge sense of well-being, but then I realized that would be the most boring thing to read about ever. But the whole reverb project has obviously served its purpose, because I felt compelled to take some pictures and write some writings anyway.

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