Like the rest of New York City and pretty much the whole eastern seaboard I have had it with the snow. I don’t have to commute to work, I don’t have babies that need milk nor do I have a husband that works for the much maligned Sanitation Department…but still I hate THIS MUCH snow. I hate it for a myriad of reasons.
Since I was 12 I have never been able to get boots over my calves. Not the stylish ones anyway. Sure the hideous ankle length ones that look like snow tires on the bottom…the ones that leave just enough room for the snow to creep up and over the top and fill the boot with frigid snow and cause frostbitten ankles…those I can get.
The snow has scared the birds away from the feeder that my husband hung outside my kitchen window so that I can watch the cardinals, blue jays and even woodpeckers come and happily peck away. Instead I get to watch the damn rodent squirrels gnaw on the birdhouse so that they can get to the food that is meant for little beaks. I chase them so often that they are no longer alarmed by my idle threats and I think I even saw one of their grey little paws give me the finger!
I have never walked my dog. Well not never, but not often...he goes in the yard. Sad but true. It gives Mr. Wonderful something to do on Saturday mornings. Scoop the Poop. Sweep the Heap. Trap the Crap. No matter what you call it, that’s his job. I feed the dog…we’re even! However, with the snow, my faggy ass dog wont go down the steps to the yard. He pretends that it is his arthritic legs that keep from plotting a course down the snow covered stairs, but when my granddaughter has anything edible his arthritic legs work miraculously well as he chases her around the house waiting for a crumb to drop. Say Halleluiah!! Instead he wants to circle and squat on the deck outside my kitchen. Like the squirrels before him, he has learned that my threats to throw him down the stairs are idle ones. So as he circles, I leave the room so as to give him some privacy. I then throw snow on it. Hey, it works….til my pooper scooper gets home from work.
I look hideous in hats. Ditto ear muffs. Double ditto hoods. Some people look cute in hats, me…not so much! Ear muffs make me look like Princess Leia and while the 'brothers' can pull off a hoodie and look menacing, I just look like a mess. Dr. Oz says you lose a lot of body heat through your head…*&%# you Dr. Oz, have you seen me in a hat??
My gloves all have holes in the fingertips from my nails. Besides it is close to impossible to turn a doorknob, tie a shoe or text while gloved. I know they now sell fingerless gloves for that reason, but it seems a little pointless to have warm palms and frozen fingertips. So mainly I go gloveless and risk frozen fingers rather than have someone receive a text from me that looks something like this: hlsm dkeii fjsslklk : )
I have lost three scarves already this winter. I have no idea where I lose them, but I think that I leave them slung over diner chairs where they eventually become a nice gift for the waiter’s wife or they have fallen off the closet hangers into the bottomless pit of my coat closet. They will not be seen again til spring when the winter coats are packed away. Even the knitted one my niece made me, which grew longer and longer each season as it stretched under its own weight….missing! I especially liked that one because it was so long it hung out from under my jacket which for some reason annoyed my anal retentive boss. I wore it often, maybe for that very reason.
With this much snow, even if I dug out my car, even if I was able to navigate the street corners without sliding, even if I could find somewhere to park when I got to said destination….what do I do when I get home to find someone took the parking spot I exhaustingly dug out with frozen ankles, frostbitten fingers and a sub-zero skull? I know you can’t save spots (although I have tried with garbage cans which were moved…grrr) and I know that if I found a spot somewhere else I couldn’t give a rat’s ass who dug it out (ever wonder where that expression came from and what the hell it even means??) but the thought of being faced with that dilemma causes me to stay put. Which leads to another dilemma. I have no excuse not to clean my house. So as I watch the snow fall outside I see all my excuses fall away as well.
I have amazing neighbors. They are super shovelers and although I haven't really tried too hard, I can't seem to get out there before them. Before the last flake falls, before the weatherman says it is over, our walks are shoveled and salted. Our steps are cleared and even our WELCOME mats are hung over the railing to dry. The problem with this wonderful situation is simple...guilt. As I sit nursing my second cup of coffee they are shoveling and chopping. As I step from my hot shower they are back revving up the the snow blower for yet another go at it. I feel so guilty that I am not out there freezing with them, although apparently not guilty enough to don a pair of Princess Leia muffs and a shovel.
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