At the edge of the worldFight the mighty hordeThat bashes and breaks youAnd brings you to mourn
This morning I am listening to Ayla Nereo alternating with The Arcadian Wild and yet my brain is screaming the lines from Toss a Coin to your Witcher at every pause and it's maddening and it's par for the course, sadly.
And I don't have any attention issues at all, because there is no attention left to be paid. My debt has been cleared and I've moved on to once again pretending to be functional while I wait for Santa, while I bake endless loaves of Stollen bread, while I wrap the few remaining presents and make white-knuckle drives to the store for provisions, for supplies, for escape.
We're ready and over the next month we're also hosting some guests but all of that depends on the weather, as it's absolute chaos right now. The mountain highways are the first to check out of reality as people in mclarens with racing slicks try to go to North (or South, or East) and take out everyone else. The boys call it road-bowling as the unprepared drivers hurl themselves into perfectly capable everyone else. I sneak out here and there during less-crowded times, shift into four-high and get where I'm going. Back in the day of my sports cars I would throw eighteen-inch snow tires on and use the skills I learned doing donuts in snowy parking lots as a teenager, as instructed by the boys, since I was the last to get my license and was the most celebrated upon doing so.
They don't worry about me driving and my Jeep is big enough to push everyone else off the road but they worry about me being trapped in traffic endlessly because roads here are designed to be impassible bottlenecks at the BEST of times and that's dumb too.