There are plenty of months that make for good names for girls. Off the top of my head, there’s April, May, and June. They’re all grouped right together. You’d think that would make them easier to find. But no, my parents decided to name me December. December Drake. It’s like they wanted me to grow up to be a stripper.
Guess I showed them. I strayed away from the adult entertainment career path and ended up with a medical degree. I’m sure if I were still speaking to either of my parents, they’d be proud. I cut ties once I was old enough to escape the broken home.
I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t she change her name once she hit 18? Hello, do you know how much it costs to get your name legally changed? Okay, in the grand scheme of things, it may not be all that much. But when I was 18, I was trying to get away from my divorced parents. I was trying to put myself through school. I didn’t have time to go to court to change my name. Plus, going to the DMV to get a new license is a nightmare alone. So I’m December Drake for life. And, hey, that’s Doctor December Drake to you.
But that’s not what this is about. I could spend days complaining about my parents (they fought on an hourly basis, giving me a wonderful view of how relationships work). I could go on and on about how awful my childhood was (“Here comes December! I thought it was getting cold in here!” Yeah, that’s real funny coming from a kid whose last name is McNutt. Want me to make fun of your name for a while?). I’m doing it again… My therapist is gonna have a field day if she sees this.
No, this is about my current annoyance. It’s snowing. A lot. I’m kind of trapped in my cabin. That’s right, I have a cabin. I’ve done well enough in my medical career over the past eight years that I’ve managed to buy a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Okay, it’s not really the middle of nowhere, but it’s far enough away from the city that I’m generally not bothered by people. Which is great. Unless there’s a blizzard that keeps me snowed in for a week.
So I’m overdressed for the frigid temperatures. I’m sitting on an area rug in my living room attempting to strap on a pair of snowshoes. All of this because I feel some irrational need to have human contact for the first time since the beginning of… well… December. I haven’t even gotten any mail since last week. So much for the postal service creed. It feels like I’ve been waiting for Age of Adeline to come from Netflix forever. If the mail won’t come to me, then I’m gonna go to it.
My post office is about five miles down the road. It’s inside a sort of country strip mall with an antique store and a diner. I’m not sure if anyone will actually be there, but I’ve got to take the chance. Cabin fever’s not so much fun. I’m sure it would be worse if I didn’t live alone. I don’t exactly have the kind of personality that meshes well with others over prolonged periods of time. But something’s gotta give here. I’d really like to see another face and have a conversation with another person.
This is causing me to really rethink my whole solitary way of life. Maybe that’s a new leaf I’ll turn over once January hits.