Cabin Fever

I haven’t posted for awhile because I’ve been buried in a family history project, writing the stories of my female pioneer ancestors. My great grandmother, for whom I am named, lived the first eighteen years of her marriage in a one-room (about 8’ X 12’) log cabin in northern Utah. She had seven children during this time period, and her sister’s children were often in and out of the cabin as well. Her experience gives new meaning to the term “cabin fever.”

Even as I was writing my grandmother’s story last week, I was suffering from the malady myself. Montana winters are long and cold. Even in the best of weather, it’s difficult for me to get out much, always trying to time my outings when few people will be on the roads and in the stores, hoping that I won’t have a chemical reaction and have to get myself home in a befuddled state of mind. And there are only a few stores in town that are safe for me anyway (Macy’s and Dillards are definite NO-NOs). But winter only adds more obstacles, like the cars running in the grocery store parking lot (happens a lot here) and those scented candles left over from the holidays. And this is all assuming that I feel up to going out in the first place. When all is said and done it’s just easier to stay home.

Hence the cabin fever.

I’m certainly not the first person to suffer from this ailment. It’s a common complaint of anyone who deals with chronic illness or disability. At least I can do something about it SOMETIMES.

Like today. I went out to drop off something to my daughter’s family and ended up at a local thrift store. With few people in the store and nothing really pressing at home, I whiled away more than an hour looking at old LPs and antique dishes (two of my weaknesses). Ahhh…the cure for cabin fever, for today at least.