If you’ve closed up the cottage for the season, chances are you’re feeling a little…off. A little like you’ve lost something precious, and all that’s left is a dark, gaping hole in your life where happiness used to be.
Don’t worry, this type of withdrawal is painful, but it’s temporary. You will feel better—eventually. Oh, you may never be completely recovered, but you’ll learn to live a full, mostly happy life—at least until May 2-4 rolls around next year.
Think you may have cottage withdrawal? The symptoms are easy to spot.
You have to sit at a desk and work all day, so naturally you’re going to feel like jumping out of your skin and jumping onto the closest hiking trail. Breathe deeply—and switch your computer screen saver to a beautiful forest scene. This too shall pass.
Declining personal hygiene
Who needs showers when you’ve got a lake? Problem is, you’re not swimming every day anymore—and your co-workers would probably appreciate it if you reacquainted yourself with soap and a bathtub.
With no campfire to cosy up to, how on earth do you stay warm? Helpful hint: get one of those lovely soft blankety shawls, wrap it around yourself, and pretend you’re watching the firelight.
You’re probably feeling seriously cranky because people keep coming up to you and talking about things that aren’t a) septic tanks, b) chainsaws, or c) bait. And no one seems interested in your treatise on 50 ways to create cottage-country chic decor using Mason jars.
You’ve been so used to bundling up in anticipation of cool nights and mornings that your internal thermometer is right off. Don’t fret the sweats—climate control is now within your power. Approach the thermostat slowly, and turn down the heat.
You’re missing the sounds you associate with restful sleep: loons, waves, wind, and the occasional “Give ‘er!” from across the lake as your neighbour fires up his outboard. It’s no wonder you’re having trouble keeping your eyes open during the third budget meeting of the day. Try finding a noise generator that includes the distant sound of crickets.
No, it’s not a super-bug—your stomach is reacting violently to food that isn’t grilled or in salad form. Don’t worry, after a few weeks of eating city food, your digestive system will stop craving burgers and marshmallows.
Spend every day on a boat, and you’re bound to have some trouble finding your land legs again. Ride out the shakes—the world will start to feel steadier as the memory of your favourite fishing spot fades into the distance. Resist the temptation to seek out a ferry ride for one last hit of marine living.
All that campfire smoke and bug spray no doubt kept your olfactory passages free and clear—and now that you’re back to the land of smog and Starbucks, it’s only natural your nose should feel a little drippy. But don’t worry, tissues are plentiful and inexpensive, and don’t require a boat trip to go pick them up.