January 18, 2016
There is always music in my head, an ongoing soundtrack accompanying my every task. Sometimes, I’m baffled by the tune my brain seizes. This morning, for instance.
I went to bed last night dreading the morning. Batten down the hatches, because here comes the snow. In truth, I feel bad complaining, because the season is getting a late start this year. Many times, the kids trick or treat through the frozen white stuff, so beginning the storm watch mentality in January is a blessing. Still, at 6AM, nothing sounds finer than wrestling a reluctant teen out of bed, and then hurrying to clear the walkways and parking area. Timing is tricky. Her van arrives at 22 minutes after 7. Yes, they are anal about the schedule. Thus, I have to have her bracing in place, medicine dosed and taken, winter appropriate attire wearing, fed, groomed, exercise-completed, and ready to go. All of this while shuffling in the extra time to clear the necessary paths.
Because of the continued flooding at my house, I’ve squirreled away everything to accommodate merging the up and down stairs. Finding the snow shovels was tricky, therefore. Up, across, scrape, stoop, and toss. Each pass cleared a swath as tiny pellets of ice pelting my face ensured my sense of urgency. At one end of the driveway, there resides a stand of wild roses that fragrance the world with pink-kissed petals in the spring. On overcast, dark mornings, however, their thorn-laced branches snag through my outerwear to splinter and scratch my skin. I question the importance of such plants and consider burying them with shovels piled high with snow. On the way back to the house, my feet betray me, slipping into the air. My bottom hit the frozen gravel first, and then my back, shoulders, and head. Wet, grouchy, and cold despite my exertion sweat, I return to sprinkle rock-salt. A squall removes any trace of my efforts in seconds. My wind-burned face reddens to a permanent blush when I at last step inside to thaw out my hands. (I have frostbite from years ago, and that damage and my arthritis aches in the cold weather.)
The whole time, the irony of my musical earworm annoys me. What song? “I Love the Winter Weather.”
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Reblogged this on Allusionary Assembly and commented:
My latest letter for the One Year of Letters sees me a bit stressed out by the Winter Weather.