Coffee Table Declarations
Thursday, January 27, 2005
When the snow started to clear on Sunday afternoon, I decided to go and shovel my car out so I would be prepared for work on Monday. Shovelling makes me tired and cold and grumpy so I was glad I could do it on a Sunday afternoon instead of on my way to work.
I piled on heaps of clothes - two pairs of sweatpants on top of each other, mittens, scarves, etc. I grabbed my newly purchased shovel and headed out the door. I immediately noticed that the sidewalk had not been cleaned yet. The way I noticed this was that I was wading through snow that completely engulfed my legs with each step. Seeing no easy path to the street, I proceeded to climb over, or should I say through, the nearest snowbank. Piled higher than the snow on the sidewalk, it was quite a challenge. For a minute I actually considered the fact that I might fall down and not be discovered until spring.
Luckily I burst triumphant through the other side of the snowbank and made my way down the street. When I arrived at the parking lot I couldn't believe what I saw. It had not been plowed yet and the whole thing looked like a giant swimming pool full of snow as high as the trunk of my poor buried car. If it had been a swimming pool full of water and it was a heck of a lot warmer outside and my car wasn't stranded in the middle of it all, I might have felt a little excited and jumped in for dip. Actually, if I wasn't cold and wet and grumpy, I may have enjoyed it anyway.
Discouraged and frustrated, I turned back for the return journey to my building. Once upstairs I stripped out of my snow covered clothes feeling angry that I had wasted nice dry sweatpants on a fruitless endeavor. I hopped back into my warm bed to read and started to feel a little better.
Monday morning at the crack of dawn, or at least 7 am, I had to once again pile on sweatpants and go out to survey the damage. By now the parking lot had been plowed but of course, this left a waist-high wall of snow behind my car. Have I mentioned how much I hate shoveling? I cleared away the snow behind the car and then forced the driver's side door open. I got in, started the car, and barrelled backwards out of the space. I couldn't believe how easy it was! Of course, I was still tired and cold and grumpy and I had to drive around and find a different place to park since my spot was still full of eight tons of snow.
Once newly parked in a nicely plowed and sanded parking lot, I headed back inside to get ready for work. Then I headed back out into the frigid cold feeling pleased with myself that I was only going to be half an hour late. I had to cross two major streets to get to my car and as I was crossing the second one, I slipped on the slushy mess in the street and fell right down. Right in the street! There I was, wearing lipstick, carrying my lunch, and I fell down in the street. I'm sure it must have looked comical but it didn't feel so comical.
I got up quickly and assessed the situation. Hmmm... anything broken? Clothing torn? No and no. I was closer to the car at that point and it was just too cold to go all the way back so I limped onward. I had a cut on my hand and my jeans were soaking wet and as I got into the car I felt miserable. I wanted to go back to bed not to work. But grown ups have to do hard things and they can't just run home every time they get a cut hand or wet pants. But they can really REALLY hate winter.
I piled on heaps of clothes - two pairs of sweatpants on top of each other, mittens, scarves, etc. I grabbed my newly purchased shovel and headed out the door. I immediately noticed that the sidewalk had not been cleaned yet. The way I noticed this was that I was wading through snow that completely engulfed my legs with each step. Seeing no easy path to the street, I proceeded to climb over, or should I say through, the nearest snowbank. Piled higher than the snow on the sidewalk, it was quite a challenge. For a minute I actually considered the fact that I might fall down and not be discovered until spring.
Luckily I burst triumphant through the other side of the snowbank and made my way down the street. When I arrived at the parking lot I couldn't believe what I saw. It had not been plowed yet and the whole thing looked like a giant swimming pool full of snow as high as the trunk of my poor buried car. If it had been a swimming pool full of water and it was a heck of a lot warmer outside and my car wasn't stranded in the middle of it all, I might have felt a little excited and jumped in for dip. Actually, if I wasn't cold and wet and grumpy, I may have enjoyed it anyway.
Discouraged and frustrated, I turned back for the return journey to my building. Once upstairs I stripped out of my snow covered clothes feeling angry that I had wasted nice dry sweatpants on a fruitless endeavor. I hopped back into my warm bed to read and started to feel a little better.
Monday morning at the crack of dawn, or at least 7 am, I had to once again pile on sweatpants and go out to survey the damage. By now the parking lot had been plowed but of course, this left a waist-high wall of snow behind my car. Have I mentioned how much I hate shoveling? I cleared away the snow behind the car and then forced the driver's side door open. I got in, started the car, and barrelled backwards out of the space. I couldn't believe how easy it was! Of course, I was still tired and cold and grumpy and I had to drive around and find a different place to park since my spot was still full of eight tons of snow.
Once newly parked in a nicely plowed and sanded parking lot, I headed back inside to get ready for work. Then I headed back out into the frigid cold feeling pleased with myself that I was only going to be half an hour late. I had to cross two major streets to get to my car and as I was crossing the second one, I slipped on the slushy mess in the street and fell right down. Right in the street! There I was, wearing lipstick, carrying my lunch, and I fell down in the street. I'm sure it must have looked comical but it didn't feel so comical.
I got up quickly and assessed the situation. Hmmm... anything broken? Clothing torn? No and no. I was closer to the car at that point and it was just too cold to go all the way back so I limped onward. I had a cut on my hand and my jeans were soaking wet and as I got into the car I felt miserable. I wanted to go back to bed not to work. But grown ups have to do hard things and they can't just run home every time they get a cut hand or wet pants. But they can really REALLY hate winter.
