The first snow arrived yesterday. Those flakes came down fast and furiously and for about a nanosecond I was thrilled; filled with wonder and awe. Then I got over it. It’s snow. Blechhh.
I like the first snow. Snowflakes arrive with stealth; quiet and unassuming little grains of coldness scramble on top of their snowflake neighbors until a blanket of whiteness presents itself on the yard, the street, the sidewalk, the deck, the steps, the dog and invariably in my house. Blechhh.
What the first snow heralds is the inescapable fact that very cold weather is lurking around the corner. Weather that will make my chest hurt as I breathe in the bitter air while trying valiantly to help Devoted Spouse during bouts of snow/ice clean-up. Oh, I may only make it as far as scraping off his car and mine, but it’s a valiant effort on my part. While Devoted Spouse does the manly stuff like pushing the snow blower, I do the hard physical work of trying to get the broom to reach the top of the SUV. I don’t like getting my boots wet, and I don’t like snow melting inside my mittens. Blechhh.
The first snow means soon there will come that horrid moment when you are out in public and Mr. Ice causes you to slip and fall, landing in a very unlady-like position. I’ve found it’s helpful to simply lay on the pavement for awhile thus alerting those guffawing at your mishap from behind the window at the store that you might actually be hurt and they should stop laughing and feel guilty they aren’t coming out to help you. Saves one the embarrassment of just looking like an idiot on the ice. Blechhh.
So, one snowfall down, multitudes to go. Holiday landmarks…Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentines; days and days of possible snow and cold lie ahead of me. It’s a bleak prospect, bleak, bleak, bleak. Blechhh.
Moving to Florida is sounding nice about now…