I don’t know if it’s just because the house is quieter at night, but holy frijoles, this new washer is a little noisy.  And by a little I mean eardrum-bleeding  and it makes me so nervous.  I don’t want to be responsible for a rogue appliance tapdancing on someone’s ceiling.  That was kind of the problem to begin with.   It makes me nervous that maybe we have a rocket taking off in our closet.  But I’m not complaining.  It’s our washer and we’ll love it whatever it’s flaws.

I did my strength training tonight and marveled at how different the snow looks and feels when you don’t have to worry about venturing out in it.  It doesn’t seem like any impediment at all.  Just an element of the winter shedding its skin, working through its phases, exerting its power and on me, it doesn’t have its usual gravity.  Its usual horror.

Oh, I am still deathly terrified, but my boss is an amazingly kind and socially astute man.   My co-workers do what they can, out of their own senses of kindness, to make me aware of the oncoming weather so that I can try and get ahead of it.  The thing is, they’re so hyper about it that even if I wasn’t an empath at all, it would transfer into me.  He’s noticed this and finally told them, in so many words, that it’s nothing and they need to shush and go back to work.  He didn’t use the word shush and really, it was much more calculated than even I can detail here without making myself feel a bit exposed, but he told me that it was for their benefit that he said all that and if I ever needed a ride, to not be afraid to ask, and he made me feel completely cool about the whole thing.

Sure, I’d love to conquer the snow driving.  Sure, I know I need to living in a state that six months out of the year can get snow in substantial quantities and sure, I know that sometimes my inability to handle this can cause difficulties and burdens on other people.  But right now, I’m running at about capacity in terms of revolution and personal growth.  I’m kicking the ass of this dieting thing and eating in the range and giving the exercise my all and cleaning up the house and working on making sure my finances make sense and I’m saving and paying what needs doing and I’m busting that same ass at work and I’m trying to carve out another little sliver to help the sister with our novel which is something that sounds really wonderful despite how distractedly I deal with her about it.  I’m really doing this all right now.  Not trying, not half-heartedly, pathless journeying.  No, I’m marching towards my goal of 130 and I’m laying out my clothes and being excited to getting to wear old ones that don’t fit anymore and Sparkpeople and doing laundry and being domestic and self-caring and all of this is orbitting around my skull and this fear…this fear.  It’s all I can do to just not let it root deeper, but there isn’t a pinch left of strength in me to pull it out.