Snow Crushing

Chapter 2

Noa

I've been lying on the soft, cotton sheets for at least an hour, staring up at the ceiling waiting for inspiration to strike. I got to the hotel mid-morning and ever since then I've been unproductive. I avoided two calls from my boss, three from my mother and one from my father. I procrastinated all the work I planned for today, I didn't even unpack my bags yet. All I did was have lunch, change into my pj's and watch a season of Friends.

With a deep sigh I roll off the bed and plant my feet on the carpet. I hook my phone up with the audio system and start the newly released Taylor Swift album. Who even gave her permission to release the album a month and a half before Christmas, the busiest time of the year and also the most emotionally draining time.

Singing the lyrics on full volume I start unpacking my suitcase. In other words, I dump every single item on top of the bed and stare at it with big eyes. I really did pack too many clothes. I wonder how I will ever be able to fit all of this back into that damn suitcase. Well, that's a problem for later.

After hanging every garment on a hanger or folding it, I can no longer use cleaning as an excuse not to work. At home I would have been able to spend a much longer time cleaning my entire apartment and procrastinate on my work. Too bad, Noa, time to get to work like an adult.

I open my laptop, sit behind the small desk and stare at the near empty document. I have until tomorrow afternoon to hand in this article for the online Christmas edition of the magazine. I love being a writer, I can write for entire days sometimes. And then sometimes, my brain refuses to put words together. Just like it has the past week.

Just when I convince myself to actually start work, my phone rings again. My mother's name flashes on the screen and I watch it just as long until it disappears again. She's crazy if she thinks I'm going to pick up anytime soon. I know exactly what she wants, to convince me to go home for Christmas. However she has been unable to get me to go voluntarily for years so she resorted to guilt tripping me into going. And every year I would regret it within thirty minutes of being home.

Last year I thought I finally managed to escape them, I refused their calls and didn't answer any texts for the two weeks leading up to Christmas. I was going to have a lovely Christmas without my family until my parents showed up at my door on Christmas eve. And not just at a reasonable hour you would go visit someone. It was midnight and I only knew it was them because I snuck a glance out of the window. Naturally I didn't open the door and in the morning I found an empty bottle of wine and a note that said 'A good daughter would at least answer the door' in front of my door. I'm glad I woke up crazy early and my neighbours weren't up yet because I would have moved the same day if anyone I know saw that display of poor parenting.

This year I took things a step further, I left my city apartment and took a train north to a small town where no one will ever find me. The little I've seen from the town on my drive to the hotel is exactly as promised on the website, small and in the middle of nowhere.

Marcie, the owner, picked me up from the station earlier today and offered to give me a tour around the town sometime this week. I doubt there are many places to show but it might be nice to know where to shop or go for a drink if I'm staying here for the next few days.

It's a good thing the magazine is paying for part of my stay, otherwise I'd go broke just because I have to run away from my freaking parents. That does mean I also have to write a piece on spending Christmas in a small, idyllic town which is due just after the holidays. Good thing I don't have writer's block or anything.

After just ten minutes of staring at a blank screen my stomach starts rumbling. I scour around the room and empty my handbag but nothing edible pops out. The hotel restaurants closed hours ago and a small place like this does not have vending machines. I tell my stomach to quiet down but of course it doesn't listen.

I'm already wearing my old sleep shirt so I don't even have to change before crawling under the thick duvet. I just take a few minutes to brush my teeth and clean my face. With my head falling into the pillow my whole body seems to relax. Nothing ever beats the feeling of getting into a freshly made bed.

With the tv playing some soap opera I scroll through my social media. My Instagram feed is pretty empty since I last checked it ten minutes ago. Tiktok always has some silly content to offer and if I don't pay attention an hour goes by scrolling through the videos.

I answer a text from my friends back home, letting them know that I arrived and won't be spending new years with them. I have a group of around seven people who I all met in college. Half of them moved out of the city after graduating but we try to meet a few times a year. I miss that we don't have the whole group together anymore for weekly dinners and nights filled with drinking. I guess this is what growing up is like.

Another part of adulting is setting five alarms for tomorrow morning so I don't oversleep and miss my deadline. I made my boss angry once by handing an article in two minutes late and I do not want to see that vein popping on her forehead again. It's so much more fun when the boss is yelling at someone else and not you.

After checking my alarms I open my calendar to make sure I don't have any meetings planned that I forgot about, which also happened before. And finally, I open my notes app to make a plan of action. My to do list is huge, nothing out of the ordinary either unfortunately.

I miss being in school where I never had to do actual work and freestyled my way through tests. Now I can't get away with half-assing my work anymore. If my pieces aren't good enough the editor will just take them out and there won't be a piece of mine going to print. The whole world can read my work and I don't want anyone to think my writing is bad so I have to put in the effort.

It's not that I don't like my job, I love it. I love writing, I love coming up with new ideas to write articles on and searching for the best viewpoint. Sometimes writing just doesn't come as easy to me. Some days writing makes me feel too vulnerable, others my mind just draws a blank when I try to write. 

I angrily throw my phone next to me in bed after turning off my third alarm. I would yell at the idiot who set all those alarms but I'm too tired to get up and yell at myself in the mirror. I stare at the ceiling until my fourth alarm goes off and with a deep sigh I finally throw the blankets off me. The cramping going on in my lower abdomen is not helping me feel any happier about starting the day. Which reminds me I should also go buy some more tampons to get me through the next few days.

I go through my morning routine and leave my room with my laptop in hand.

"Good morning, Miss Douglas! You're up early."

"Please call me Noa," When did people my age start addressing me as miss Douglas? Where did the informality go? "I have a work deadline in... four hours and fifty minutes, so it's time to get to work. Do you mind if I work in the dining room this morning?"

"Of course not! Go right ahead! I'll get the waitress to bring you some coffee and breakfast right away." I thank her and go sit at a table in the back, headphones on, laptop plugged in and ready to work.