I knew that if I posted a rant about our unseasonably warm Winter, that act alone would be enough to spark something resembling normal. At least locally, that is. As sure as washing your car attracts flocks of incontinent pigeons, my post was apparently the key that unlocked the gates of Winter hell. Of course, the operating function behind this is of course Karma, that twisted, sadistic bitch who gets off by using me as her personal blow-up doll.
I really, really dislike Winter and precipitation in general. None of this is truly surprising considering I grew up in a desert where it might (or might not) get cold enough to actually snow about once every five years or so. Even then, it was gone by noon, but not before the religious nuts had wrecked their cars speeding to church to be the first in line for the Rapture. But seriously, it was infrequent and unoppressive enough to be novel and no more.
Back to Winter’s Discontent. I’ve learned to adapt and accommodate Winter, it’s true. Nothing in that annual process indicates to me that I have to like it. It’s cold. It rains more. It snows. Somtimes it does both. That alone gives me a case of unmitigated ass, and then the second-order effects kick in.
Shoveling. Clearing the snow off of a sidewalk is one of those activities much like making your bed or raking leaves that makes me question the utility of performing the act in the first place. Will we not get more snow? Will this snow not melt? I have learned the trick of using a broom if I can get to the problem in time, but every now and then there’s that epic dump where a broom just won’t work.
Driving. For some reason snow makes people lose their fucking minds and completely flush everything they learned about driving in and on it. At least here in Kansas. This baffles me because it (snow) happens every year. You’d think these skills would eventually become ingrained enough to be useful to these retards as well as the folks around them on the roads.
Dressing. I’ve ranted about acclimating, but in truth that’s only good down to about thirty degrees. Below that, I have to go dig out additional things to wear. The good news is, the Army has finally come up with some warm shit that isn’t wool and actually works. The bad news is, it works so well you can count on dehydrating yourself if you don’t remove it once you get where you’re going.
I could probably go on, but I have some cleanup to do, and that snow won’t shovel itself. I’ll close by adding that the one redeeming feature of snow is that I can park my beer in it while I shovel and it will keep cold. Whoopty-fucking-shit.