It’s not that I hate snow. If I really hated snow, I would have taken that library job in Phoenix and this would be a rant about snowbirds, water conservation, and heat rash.
I do like snow . . . but only under very specific circumstances. Viewed from the other side of a double-glazed window is a favorite, perhaps while cuddled in the easy chair with an afghan or two and a cat and a hot cup of pumpkin spice tea with just a splash of brandy, a good book, and no need to drive anywhere until the roads are clear and dry.
That last element is key. I hate to drive in snow. Hate it. Known for it:
Me, backing out of the driveway: “Honey, there’s snow on the roads this morning, so you know what that means.”
Janie: “You’re very sorry about your language and no repeating anything you say when I get to school.”
Me: “Good girl.”
And, after I fishtailed while crossing a rain-slick bridge last week:
Me, through my teeth: “Not now, sweetie. Mommy’s praying.”
Sunny: “Yay! Is it snowing?”
We had four inches dumped on us in two hours today. One and a half of those hours, I might add, were right before I clocked out of the library at 5:30 and trekked to my buried car in a short jacket and lovely shoes with decorative cut-outs on the top, which were just the thing for the crisp autumn day that would descend into light snow showers after ten pm.
I had a small ice scraper, but no gloves—and made the discovery that reusable shopping bags can be used to swipe snow off car windows, but this is not the sort of ingenuity that impresses your co-workers, who apparently listened to the other weather channel this morning and had brought their long-handled, brush-ended scrapers with them.
I confess—words were exchanged. And perhaps a snowball or three and the phrase, “Yeah? Scrape this!”
But driving away in righteous mock indignation wasn’t as much fun after I left the parking lot.
It’s not that I can’t drive in snow. I can. I do. I often have no choice. But it ratchets up my blood pressure, tenses all my muscles and breaks little pieces off my teeth. Especially when done on tires with no treads.
I have no interest in training for the United States luge team this year, so I am spending $100 more to get brand-new, high-end, all-weather tires put on my car tomorrow morning, rather than wait a week for the cheaper place to get two more tires in. Because there are rumors there might be more scattered flurries on Tuesday.
And the only thing I hate more than spending money on my car* is driving in snow.
I will end my rant with this, as it comes close to my frustration level with the cold, white stuff. Plus misery loves company—especially funny company:
Sing it sister. I feel your pain.
Sorry this post was so late, by the way: guess what snow does to our Internet connection?