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The Sanity Plan

October 10, 2008


Cold makes me sad. I try to pretend it doesn’t, and can usually keep up the charade for a few weeks, maybe a month or two. But this is Ontario, not known for its balmy Februarys or short winters. In due course, I am bound to collapse, surrendering to the sleepy season’s grey days and long nights.

Hence, the Sanity Plan.

It’s a plan you “buy” now, when you still have some spirit. It’s insurance against the day you wake up and discover 8 a.m. is still dark outside, and you know by the time you get home in the evening, it will also be dark outside, and the whole time, it will be frigid outside, and you just cannot muster the energy to do anything more constructive than hide beneath a quilt, clutching a cask of red wine in your icy claw. Of course, by January, this just isn’t working anymore.

This is when the Sanity Plan saves the day.

In Ontario, October is lovely. Usually. So, now, while the days smell good and you require only one layer of sweaters beneath your coat, you build a nice routine, one that involves seeing other humans, doing things outside your home, putting on clothes that mostly look good and mostly do not resemble Arctic exploration gear.

For instance, Rachel and I dine together once a week. We flip open the matching cookbooks our mothers gave us at Christmas last year, pick a page, then make it and eat, and often pass out on the sofa afterwards, in the beds we so cleverly built from cushions and pillows before serving the meal.

Carrie and I write fan letters to each other, sometimes bemoaning the crappiness of our days, sometimes telling about the cereal we just ate, usually assuring each other that snow can be fun, and boots can be sexy, and that we will meet come summertime, to toast the sunshine with cocktails and conversation.

Four of us take turns hosting a monthly lady soirée, spending early evening cooking something fabulous and the rest of the evening polishing it off and drinking the house dry. This year, we are making uniforms! T-shirts that shout “No slumping here!” It’s an inside joke, rooted in the Sanity Plan, and one that doesn’t bear sharing…really, it’s best not to know more.

Each Tuesday, I take a yoga class, where the instructor does vicious things like stick her feet between my shoulder blades while yanking my arms behind me as far as they will stretch. She smiles as she does this (I can tell she is grinning, even behind my back), and states that it’s all for my own good.

The key is, get your routine in place now, so that by the time you are crippled by the weight of four months of snow, you just slip into auto-pilot: Wednesday? Must be steak and mashed potatoes at Rachel’s house!

This year, winter will NOT be the boss of me! Winter, I am totally not speaking to you. I have purchased share in the Sanity Plan.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. Rachel permalink
    October 10, 2008 3:31 pm

    Nicely done Millerator!

    Reading this little excerpt has added a much needed layer of figurative fat to block out the cold on those frigid February nights!

  2. Carrie permalink
    October 10, 2008 4:38 pm

    Nice description. I was considering writing about The Sanity Plan but I wasn’t sure if it was private or not.

    We have to decide the parameters of ours…

  3. Amanda permalink
    October 12, 2008 2:59 pm

    Miss Rachel: I fully support us developing “figurative” fat this winter, instead of the “real live clothes-size changing” fat we packed on in 2008!

    Miss Carrie: Totally not private. And yes, we need to launch our long-distance plan anew.

  4. Cakespy permalink
    October 14, 2008 7:22 pm

    OK, I am laughing out loud at this one! The thought of your Yoga teacher (how does her danskin hide her devil-tail?) stretching you out menacingly. 🙂

  5. looka permalink
    October 15, 2008 6:31 am

    Yes, how good.

    I have made plans too:

    -Fixing things with café owners next door to be extra nice to me, when I come in from killer winds.

    -Building sandwich towers to last all day when I need them.

    -TEA, TEA and TEA. With friends. And rum.

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