Nesting: Comfort Seekin Missle

The first few flakes of November Snow are meandering down. The squirrels are darting around, the sparrows puffing up on the curb. The cats were curled up like hedgehogs at the foot of the bed this morning, I know what that means. Here it comes: all six months of Wisconsin winter. I was watching Milo and Marney bask in the window, letting their little cat feet curl up, wheezing a little cat snore. I laughed. Comfort Seeking Missiles, I thought. I shivered looking at the bare bones trees from my third floor window; the pavement is spotted with rain and oil slicks. Comfort Seeking Missile…

That’s it! That sounds like an excellent idea! That’s what I’m going to do!

This winter, I refuse to be eaten by the sludge. I refuse to be driven into a lonely salty hibernation. I am not falling into the awful desperate slump that sinks in further the colder it gets.

Instead, I will be a Comfort Seeking Missile.

It’s Nest building time.

It’s time to start stocking up on paints, turpenoid and sandpaper to avoid long treks to the hardware store.

It's time to start stashing away ingredients for cinnamon rolls, sweet tea and vanilla candles in the pantry.

It’s time to put the slippers in their permanent posts near the edge of the bed to avoid the morning interpretive dance I call the “oh-goodness-that-bare-wood-floor-is-chilly-ballet”.

It is time to start stacking up that mountain of long-put-off readables and plushy fort building supplies near my tangerine love seat.

It’s time to sew up the windows to keep the drafts away and sweep out lurking negativity.

It’s time to sit up late in the big red sweater my mom made while sketching up new phantasms.

It’s time to put away martini fixin’s and shuffle my bar so I can sling a hot toddy to any soul who comes to visit apartment #5.

No—my pad is no classy chateau, no prim and polished bastion of Fine Living but it is comfortable. It’s mine and it’s enough. This winter it won’t be solitude, it’s going to be Sanctuary.

I can’t wait! How are you going to be a Comfort Seeking Missile?

"NEST" by Molly Roberts