“Walk it off, Jillie, walk it off!”

My Saturday morning Facebook post: “It’s starting to get to me. Seven days inside my house. Can’t even walk to the mailbox now. Can’t get the dog out without risking my own safety. I carried forty bowls of hot water out and cleared her ramp and put towels over the slippery deck, but she still slides on the ice-covered ground. Supposed to rain today and melt, but it is not happening here yet.” 2015ice1 It’s been seven days since I’ve gotten out of my yard. The neighborhood and town streets are still iced over. I’m still getting 911 messages that certain streets and intersections are dangerous and to STAY HOME. Okay, I am staying home, and I’m sick of it!

I need to go to the grocery store. I’m out of bread, paper towels, and CHOCOLATE.

Each time I look out the window at white, I fall apart a little more.

First, there’s the geriatric dog. I’ve worked my bloody fingers to the icy bone trying to clear a space for her to get out to do her business. The needles of ice that used to be soft fescue have bloodied her paws and made her a trembling wreck. She hates being carried to the front yard because she knows it is painful. In the back, there’s the ramp I’ve worked hard to keep safe and then inches of ice on the ground. She squats and her legs keep going into the splits. It’s hard for an old girl.

And then there are the house issues. I’ve dripped faucets. I’ve shoveled snow. I’ve worried for three days that my gutters would fall off. So far, so good. But I’ve just heard in the last hour about three neighbors whose upstairs storage crawl spaces are leaking. Southern houses just aren’t built for this kind of stuff!  They are all devastated. These are new houses. I check my storage space quickly. I don’t want to discover anything. Please God, no leaks, no water on the floor. Please. I seem to remember asking this once before…maybe this time it can be okay. Maybe I have enough sun on my roof to melt the heavy stuff.

And then there’s the looming medical procedure Monday. I need the ice to melt so I can get there.

Like the layers of ice, inch upon inch, there’s one stress on top of another and after seven days of climbing the walls, I am fast coming unglued.

It’s enough to send a girl scrambling for the bottle of Jack Daniels and whatever chocolate she can scrape up, which consists of a handful of complimentary chocolate mints Olive Garden hands out.

Woe is me, for I am undone.

Okay, that’s my whine. I’m done. Now, I will pick myself up and do as my son told his ten-month-old daughter when she fell down while learning to walk and started to cry: “Walk it off, Jillie, walk it off.”

2015iceforsythiasI look at the forsythias standing against the fence looking all yellow and hopeful, and I say, “Come on, babies, come on.”

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One Comment on ““Walk it off, Jillie, walk it off!””

  1. susie27 says:

    Winter in the north is tough. Normal winters here in the mid-south are very doable. This is not a normal winter; it’s more northern than southern. Loud and Bold – Yankee style. It makes you stronger like the generations who survived it before you. It’s one not to be forgotten both up in the North and down here in the South. It has taken a large toll on many including people’s homes leaking and breaking along with some of their owners. Hang in there. It’s almost over. Wrap the girl’s paws in some gauze to help her out and take a deep breath. You’ll tell your grandkids stories for a couple of decades about this one. About how it battled all of us down here. Yanks and Rebs. We’ll survive it and be better for it. See you tomorrow. It’s going to be fine.


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