scat·ter·brain [skat-er-breyn] noun
a person incapable of serious, connected thought.
I've been so absentminded lately I can hardly string two words together. Thus my occasional lapses here at Cultural Construct. I keep forgetting to take photos of my food, instead snapping shot and shot of our contented cats. Something about their relaxed sleepy purrs calms me, and I forget that I was worried about not remembering to do something that I forgot about.
I should set my favorite quilt up over the heat vents then lay there while the furnace blows me into a deep nap, but I'd have competition for the space. The floor vents are especially sought after by the three furry siblings.
Maybe I've been spending too much time outside in the cold that I love so much and my coherent thoughts swirled away in the polar vortex. In Minnesota we used to pride ourselves with our durability. When the temps dipped, as they tend to do each winter, we simply wrapped another woolen layer around our faces. It never occurred to us to complain about something as boring as the weather. In the past few years things have changed, and complaints about the weather are as common as blizzards in March.
It is easier to complain about our temporary discomfort than to take action against the global warming that is producing this extreme weather. The severe weather becomes news, not the preventable forces behind it.
This afternoon I'll find my shovel and get to work on our snow covered driveway. It is in the mindless movements of push-lift-throw where I'll find those deep thoughts that will probably disappear once I return to the warm house and purring cats. I wonder if my brain shutdown is a biological response to the chill. Numbed, I stumble into action and movement one shovel of snow at a time. My brain will return with the sun.