The first winter storm left three inches of good, damp snowball snow. Nathan, bundled in snowpants, puffy jacket, boots, mittens, hat and hood so he looked like a garden statue-sized red and blue Michelin man, was not impressed, “Daddy, it cold outside. I go in. I have cocoa.” That’s his mother right there. That precipitation was followed a day later by a weather warning and six or seven inches of crisp powder. If I skiied, I might count vacation days and order lift tickets about that time but the conditions did not last as the storms dumped another inch or two of ice pellets and sleet then finished up last night with a dusting of icy snow.
It works for me. Today my employer announces bonuses and promotions, where you find out what the past eleven months and some-teen work days really meant, adjusted relative to firm performance. I have more than my measure of nervous energy. Twice yesterday I went out to fire up the snow blower to clear my driveway, walkway, my neighbor on the left’s walk, my neighbor on the right walk and driveway and my friend across the street’s walk. I helped a woman who lives across the street dig out her car that the city snow plow buried. I went out again in the afternoon to scrape and throw salt. Last night at 9 p.m. I shoveled the hoar of ice from my driveway, sidewalk, front walk and back walk. Afterward I resumed patching and skim coating in the spare room we’re fixing up. Speaking of old houses, you know what you find under forty year-old wallpaper? The remains of seventy year-old wallpaper. And what’s under that? Cracked plaster walls. I’m wiser but not happier for knowing.I am confident I made up for going only once to the gym this week.
I set the alarm twenty minutes early and woke ten minutes before that. The roads might be unpassable and I needed to be ready. Luck favors the prepared, so I spent an extra thirty five minutes waiting in the train station. Whee.
