Day Three

Day Three of Entrapment:

Nothing has changed outside. All is white. My world as I have known it is gone, and I fear for my sanity.

Having lost the will to admire myself in the looking glass, my hair, although clean, has taken on a Medusa quality I did not know it could obtain.

We are running out of food. Only one gallon of milk and one loaf of bread left.

No chicken remains.

Those I thought of as loved ones are appearing more and more sinister, as though their very life is centered around annoying me to the point of death.

They breathe. In and out, in and out! I tell you, I do not know how much longer I can tolerate it!

I find myself curled up in the fetal position more often than is normal. And my thoughts? God have mercy on us all!

The animals I once thought of as pets are looking more feral and predatory every moment of every passing day.

Dear Lord, is there not a patch of brown anywhere? Are we doomed to the white out, in a winter which has lasted longer than any, surely, in written history?

The fire cackles wickedly and its tongues of flame lick out to attempt to strike me. I can  no longer put a log on its  contained fury!

Is it my fate to now freeze slowly to death, with only the heat pump filling the house with its lukewarm air, set at a mere 68 Degrees?

The striking of the clock is nothing but a cruel reminder that time is passing and I am no longer a part of it. I can only sit in this house that has become a prison and know that somewhere, surely, civilization continues.

What will happen next? Will they hold their breath to see if I notice? Will a cat rub up against me, coy and sly? Will we run out of pork chops?

Surely we will be rescued. Why would we be left alone to die?

I am mad, I tell you. Simply mad.