Losing My Shit at the Front Door

On winter, sunlight, and not wasting the day

Do you ever feel like you don’t want to waste the day? I’m not even sure what wasting the day means, but as a high-performer, list-maker, get-things-done person, it’s very difficult for me to do nothing. I’ve gotten better as I’ve gotten older—and more tired, lol. Naps used to be completely out of the question. Now, if there’s a window, I will be napping.

Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I read or listen to audiobooks. Sometimes I just lie there and pet the dog.

There’s a short window of time in the afternoon when the sun comes in through my bedroom window and lands right on my spot on the bed. If I can catch that window, I curl up like a cat, feel the warmth on my face, and pretend it’s summer. I LOVE the feel of sun on my face. Yeah—melanoma, etc.—but that’s what sunscreen and windows are for. It’s that instant warmth that feels like it radiates straight through to my heart.

I’ve always loved the sun. My poor skin. I’m much more careful now than I was when I was younger, but it almost feels like a necessity for me. The winters in New Jersey are so dark and cold that I get mildly depressed every year—actual SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). We finally invested in one of those lamps that’s supposed to help. I think it does, to some extent—but you have to get the right one. These aren’t tanning lamps; they just mimic the sun’s rays enough to trick your body into thinking it’s getting what it needs. I also take Vitamin D all winter.

Which brings me back to New Jersey winters.

I HATE IT HERE.

I completely understand why my dad went back to Florida. This weather literally sucks a-hole. Today is a rare sky-is-blue day, which is genuinely lovely and I’m grateful… but it snowed yesterday and tonight the low is sixteen degrees. So where exactly am I going? To clean off my effing car—and then right back inside.

Meanwhile, Little Crackhead is out of her mind because she needs exercise. She does zoomie laps a few times a day, but she probably hates my actual guts for not taking her out to play. And speaking of Little Crack—she pulled me over this morning. We tried a new front-hook harness, which makes it harder for her to pull, but far from impossible. A dog came from an angle I forgot to check (we’re on a corner, so there are MULTIPLE directions I have to surveil for dog traffic), and I couldn’t get her out of the line of sight fast enough. I had to wrestle her and ended up falling in the snow.

Thankfully, I was wearing the extremely unflattering snowmobile suit Patrick bought me. It’s warm, waterproof, and—turns out—excellent for breaking a fall. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow. Little a-hole.

Right now, Ariel and Little Crack are in the kitchen singing a full chorus of “Is that the mailman or UPS?” while I’m at my desk trying to write. Very helpful.

I once saw a cartoon of a German Shepherd sitting at a grand piano with a microphone and an audience in front of him. He says, “This one’s about the mailman. It’s called ‘Losing My Shit at the Front Door.’”

It makes me laugh every single time.