Last week it snowed, again, and then ice fell on top of it. The ground was still soft enough that the hard, crunchy snow hid the soft mud puddles underneath, so that you found them when you were suddenly ankle deep, or dog belly deep, in muck. Two mornings ago, when I woke up to find that all that crap had melted, I did a little dance of joy without getting all covered in slop.
This morning I woke up to find that the cycle had repeated, except that this time, the muck puddles are nicely frozen solid. I’m sure all you experienced winter folk are saying, yeah, so, what do you expect this time of year? Well excuse me for spending so many winters in the tropics that it’s freaking me out. And was it my idea to get a young dog at this time of year, who absolutely has to go out to run around, or parts of the house inside end up covered in teeth marks? Don’t answer that. When I decided to stay through the cold part of the year, I wasn’t planning to actually go outside. Leaving the house was not on my list of things to do this winter, except to venture to the mailbox for Netflix.
Right now the dog is plastered to the side of the woodstove after our most recent trip out, trying to melt the snow off herself, and I’m having dark fantasies about picking up a hurricane damaged boat in Texas, patching it up enough to float it, and sailing to the Yucatan peninsula, or somewhere, anywhere, where I can snuggle up to a nice toasty warm volcano until I thaw out. Watching documentaries about warm places is no longer doing it for me.
As soon as I tie up some loose ends here, like actually doing some work so I have a bit of travel money, and getting the car properly serviced, since all I’ve done since I bought it last year was to change the oil, put 35,000 miles on it, and flatten some tires, we’re off to the warmth of boring old Florida. Provided I can get the car unstuck from the driveway.
This morning I woke up to find that the cycle had repeated, except that this time, the muck puddles are nicely frozen solid. I’m sure all you experienced winter folk are saying, yeah, so, what do you expect this time of year? Well excuse me for spending so many winters in the tropics that it’s freaking me out. And was it my idea to get a young dog at this time of year, who absolutely has to go out to run around, or parts of the house inside end up covered in teeth marks? Don’t answer that. When I decided to stay through the cold part of the year, I wasn’t planning to actually go outside. Leaving the house was not on my list of things to do this winter, except to venture to the mailbox for Netflix.
Right now the dog is plastered to the side of the woodstove after our most recent trip out, trying to melt the snow off herself, and I’m having dark fantasies about picking up a hurricane damaged boat in Texas, patching it up enough to float it, and sailing to the Yucatan peninsula, or somewhere, anywhere, where I can snuggle up to a nice toasty warm volcano until I thaw out. Watching documentaries about warm places is no longer doing it for me.
As soon as I tie up some loose ends here, like actually doing some work so I have a bit of travel money, and getting the car properly serviced, since all I’ve done since I bought it last year was to change the oil, put 35,000 miles on it, and flatten some tires, we’re off to the warmth of boring old Florida. Provided I can get the car unstuck from the driveway.
