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Demos and I were heading upstate to spend a peaceful weekend at his beautiful house set on 25 secluded acres in the woods of Brown Mountain in the town of Gilboa. Before we left, Demos called a friend “up there” to make sure the roads were passable, after all, we were just coming out of one of the worst winters in history. As we were approaching his “gated community” (please do not envision some condo community, this is a metal fence between two trees) the roads were down to the pavement and there was little snow to be seen, just as his friend had said. However, his friend did not make the ascent to Demo’s property, which apparently is some country unto itself. As we were making our way up the long, winding path in the woods, the road was suddenly covered in a foot of snow. Before we could even process what we were driving in, the truck skidded off the road and we landed sideways in a ditch. Ok, looking at the pictures, we weren’t exactly sideways, but it sure felt that way from inside the truck! Despite Demos’ protests I immediately got out of the truck thinking, “If this truck is rolling over, I am not going to be in it!” So I jumped out into waist- deep snow, made my way to the trunk and immediately demanded my two Vera Bradley bags. If the truck was tipping over with Demos in it, then I needed my stuff! But the truck was stuck and so were we. We were at least a mile or more from the house with no cell service. We had no choice but to make the trek uphill in a foot of snow to the house with a landline telephone. We decided to take just the bare essentials. Demos took food and water; I took both my bags with my blow dryer, hair products, make-up, face creams, moisturizer, fuzzy robe, Ugg slippers and all my clothes. With bags in hand, I somehow made it up the mountain, sinking knee deep with every footstep. Thankfully, it was still daylight and really not that cold, but still, it was not a pretty scene. We made it to the house which had been completely closed down for the winter. Demos called a friend from the landline who arranged for someone with a tractor to come and pull his truck out of the ditch. I told Demos to just turn on the electricity and not to worry about the heat and water which had to be turned on from a crawl space under the house. We were running out of daylight and time was of the essence. He jumped on an ATV quad and started back down the mountain. The quad got stuck and he had to come back to get another one with bigger tires. That one got stuck too. Now it was dark. So with just a flashlight, Demos headed down the mountain on foot.

But, alas, woe is ME! I was alone in that house with no heat and running water! I noticed that the snow we tracked in was not even melting. The temperature in Gilboa had gone down to 14 below zero this winter and right now, the inside of the house was less than 32 degrees.  I had to think quickly and save myself. Aha, the electric space heater! I went in the bedroom, closed the door and plugged it in. And then, well, I read a magazine. For the first hour, it wasn’t so bad. Then my imagination started running away with me. What if Demos doesn’t come back? At what point do I call 911? Do I wait another hour? Two hours? You have no idea the stress and duress I was under!  Demos might’ve been in the cold, dark woods, but at least he knew what was going on! About a half hour later he came back to the house to find me frantic and hysterical crying. He couldn’t feel his hands and toes, but big deal! If he hadn’t come back soon I was going to have to melt snow to flush the toilet!

Gratefully, a couple of hundred dollars later all ended well. A huge tractor with a plow pulled the truck out of the ditch and then plowed a path all the way to Demos’ gate. That still meant we had to walk a bit of a distance to the truck every time we wanted to go out, but it was way better than being stranded. After Demos finally calmed me down, he still had to shovel the snow to get to the crawl space under the house, slither in and turn on the heat and water.

It was quite a night and we collapsed into a long, deep sleep. At least I did.  I noticed it got a little cold, and I heard Demos get out of bed, but I thought he was just hungry or thirsty. Actually, I heard him get out of bed THREE times, but I thought he was just REALLY hungry or thirsty. Turns out the heat stopped working and Demos had to get dressed, go outside, go under the house and push the reset button for the heat. Of course he didn’t want to fall asleep until he knew for sure the heat was fully working so he kept getting up to check the thermostat. I’m happy to say, when I woke up in the morning the house was toasty warm and I had no idea there was ever anything wrong with the heat. I got up and made my Honey a breakfast of eggs and delicious sausage we had picked up at the German deli on our way up.

After a relaxing morning, we set out to do some errands and pick up some things we needed for around the house. When we came home we headed back up the mountain. I was displaying symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but we were making it up the mountain with ease until…..

…we see the “neighbor’s” car stuck and completely blocking the road. They were a lovely young couple with two small beautiful children with a car full of groceries. But, who gave a shit about them! There was no f*ing way I was walking up that mountain again!!! To make matters worse, I had just found out that the delicious sausage I had eaten that morning was made from venison! How much could a girl take, I ask you? Thankfully, Demos was able to help them get their car unstuck. Unfortunately he had to BACK HIS TRUCK DOWN the winding, slippery mountain so they could get their car to safe ground. Then they piled in our truck with all their stuff and we drove them up the mountain to their “gate”. I have no idea how, where, when or if those people ever got out of their house again, but I’m sure they figured something out. I can’t worry about them. I have myself to worry about. The snow will probably be melted in a few weeks anyway.

So, still suffering from PTSD, I decided I did not want to go see a movie in town (45 minutes away) that night. Heaven forbid something impeded us from getting up that mountain again, I would just lose it. So I cooked a yummy dinner and fell asleep by 9:00PM. It’s exhausting watching Demos do all that work.

That night the house was filled with strange happenings (the ceiling fan turned on by itself, weird noises, loud bangs) all of which Demos had to get out of bed to investigate.  I didn’t even care if the house was haunted, as long as I didn’t have to climb that mountain again. In the morning, Demos left to try to dig out the two quads that were stuck in the snow. (No luck, by the way). I took a shower while he was gone. When I came out of the shower I found him sitting in the kitchen with his foot in a bucket of snow. He had badly twisted his ankle! OMG! Are you ok? Are you in pain? Can you drive? Does this mean I have to lug everything to the car myself???? But my handsome, gallant boyfriend told me he would do everything himself. He said he’d rather have two sprained ankles than risk me getting one. Awe!! How sweet!! But then I realized he’d rather have two sprained ankles than me having one  because that would mean  a lot less whining and complaining and no trip to the emergency room. So Demos piled up a sled with all of our things and made a few trips to the truck, hobbling in the snow, pulling the sled behind him.  Ah, chivalry is not dead!

As we headed home and reflected on our weekend, Demos said, “Ya know, as long as we are together, it’s a good weekend.”  “How true”, I said.  “As long as we’re together and I have a blow dryer with an outlet near a mirror, its good weekend!”