snow

The dude plowed, but I still had to brush a few tons of snow off the car, shovel a thin path to it.. then figured I'd probably just die. Not that long ago, you quit when you were tired- in other words, done. You did it, then bitched. But you did it without thinking. Or dying.

I prefer "out of shape" to "old.." shit, I'll be 96, lift a shovel, gasp for air and fall down, mumbling that I shoulda renewed my JCC membership. Yeah, and that frozen shoulder still stands up in the air because I once again neglected to do my exercises. If Anne doesn't bitch to me about it, I'll probably just kick myself.

"See?- use it or lose it, ya lazy bastard!"

I must be a lazy, out-of-shape bastard- not up to my usual superhuman performance of wiping out all snow that fell anywhere on or near my driveway, watching it part like a white sea as I walked amongst it deciding where to throw each shovelful. ("But I just Walked there!..."  "So what, let's not get anal about it..")

Well, at least I got the car door open. Turned on the heat. Made the stuff on the windows melt. The snow that fell from my coat, now on my car's floor, will remain solid till spring. Every day till then, I'll be sitting and stepping in the shit- the Snow that followed me. The Snow that doesn't melt. Even when the ground is totally sweeped and shiny, those snow piles will sit beside me and go wherever I go.

Beats the heat and humidity, though.... but hell- no way was I gonna make it into work today!

Too.. much like... winter.