Working to end the stigma and discrimination of mental illness.

Blog: Habitable by Jessie Close

I’m lying on my couch, staring up at a spinning dead fly hanging from a single fiber of spider silk.  I am having a peculiar day and I am hoping tomorrow will be different.  The highlight of this day has been discovering that this evening, at 8 o’clock, I can catch a new episode of Law & Order.  A 2013 episode.  But it’s only 5:50 in the evening and I don’t know what to do with myself.  All I want to do is read and read and read.  That doesn’t sound so bad but I’m not happy with myself; I feel dull and useless.  I’m not crazy about the book I’m reading and I thought I would be.  It’s a science fiction book from 1972, when I was into sci-fi, written by our great John Brunner.  I remember this book being one I loved and was excited when I found it on Abebooks.com for $3.  Now that it’s in my hand I am feeling particularly old; some of the words he uses are so 70’s and are making me feel old or, I should say, I’m making me feel old.  Words like: ‘fuzz’ for the police, ‘you dig?’ for ‘you understand?’.  I can’t believe I used to use those words! 

I know what to do when I feel like this: walk, write, drive to town to see other humans, but mostly just get out of the house.  I’m fortunate that my son, Calen, and our friend Mike are driving out here to get a preliminary look at what needs to be done to my little house to make it warmer and more habitable.

After Calen and Mike arrived we walked into my livingroom and Calen spotted the fly, hanging as it was.  He pinched the dead fly and pulled down the strand of spider silk.  Strange, but I’d become a bit fond of the fly, dead as it was, and felt my heart skip a beat when it was handled so nonchalantly.  I told him, under my breathe so he didn’t hear me, that I’d just written about that fly.

Outside, winter coats buttoned up, hats pulled low, we walked around my house and discussed all that needs to be done.  I am so very familiar with this little place and have spent many hours musing about how I want it changed for the better.  I have drawn plans in my head and someday hope to have a little jewel of a house.  The roof, number one priority, is covered in orange lichen and is beginning to cave in a bit, especially on the south side.  I am amazed that the only place the roof has actually crumbled is over the pump house.

Calen spotted a Golden Eagle when we were standing outside, flying over us; so beautiful, so huge as we stood, our hands in pockets, stamping our feet now from the cold.

Just now I spot that same eagle flying past my study window.  I’ll have to be careful of Snitz when she goes outside, all seven pounds of her.  Eagle food.  Now THAT would be a bad day.

I notice that it’s snowing; tiny flakes show up against the dark green junipers on the hill opposite my house.  I just spoke to a friend in Boston who is scrambling to get home in the huge blizzard that’s hitting the east coast.  It’s the blizzard of February 8th, 2013.  I wish the blizzard was hitting here in Montana because we can take it – there are so few of us, under a million, and we’re prepared for snow, at all times!  I hope that the 23 million people this eastern storm will hit stay safe, stay warm.  The snowflakes outside my window have stopped.

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