I stare out my front window this morning, and this is my view:
…More or less. That is a stock image I rooked from Google Images. The actual view has a banged up Subaru and a garbage bin awaiting the weekly pickup in it. The snowfall is slightly less drastic, and rather than the sort of romantic feeling that this pristine image might convey, I’m irritated. Compounding my irritation was the revelation that we are running out of coffee in the house.
4 inches of snow when I woke up this morning, with anywhere between 6 and 12 more before this quits.
I remember when I was a kid, we used to have storms like this pretty often. The reason I remember that so clearly, was that my siblings and I were usually enlisted to help my father dig out the cars and walkway, find, cut, haul, cut, split, stack, and re-stack firewood every winter. Winter always meant work for us. Its not that we were lazy as kids, or that my parents used us for slave labor or anything like that, but we lived in the middle of nowhere, and keeping warm and being able to access the cars was a chore that required all hands on deck. We never had a snow-blower, but we had 4 shovels. While some of my friends were off riding ski lifts to the top of the local mountain and hurling themselves down the side of it, there were those of us who spent our winter days in a constant battle against the snow plow, who would go up the road and bury the cars and walkway back in. He usually did this mere moments after we’d finished shoveling it out in the first place.
Sure, we did the usual kid stuff too, snow men, forts, etc- but we grew to detest these because in the end, you’re just cold and wet.
When I went to college I was surrounded by a large number of people from areas of the state where they never saw winter as agonizing as I had, and they were bemused by my annual ire for the impending season.
Now that I am older, the work is still there, but there’s an added feature now. Since I’ve given a good chunk of my time to the emergency services, I am now attending car accidents and fires which are happening because people either forgot how to drive, or they don’t know how to clean the chimneys on their winter vacation homes.
The more I think about it though…the REAL reason I’m so annoyed this morning? I burned the corn muffins I made for breakfast. Slightly. They’re still edible, but crumbly and with a faint taste of ‘flambe’ to them. Mini-Me scoffed down one and a half, then scattered the last half across the carpet. The Narrator jammed three in his mouth almost immediately, so I know they’re not terrible. But when the bottoms tear off of them as you pull them from the tins- that’s just a little annoying.
Recap: I burned breakfast, coffee’s running out, we’re snowed in.
And its only 9am.