Maybe it’s the gray skies, or the lack of Vitamin D, or the slippery and frozen streets where you’re literally risking your life to walk your dog, but winter depresses me. By the end of February, I’m over it. For those of you in warmer climates, let me give you a taste of what a day of winter is like in Minnesota. Skip the rant below if you like, but (insert here—an appropriate expletive for those of you who can’t take the heat).
My car is filthy, inside and out, with salt and dirt from the bottom of our boots. It’s too cold to vacuum it! The other day I spent the time and money to run the car through the carwash, then scurried through my other errands. My last stop was the dinner run to the Chick-fil-A drive thru. Unfortunately, by then, my window was frozen in place from the water at the car wash. I had no choice but to open my door and let an arctic blast assault me while young perky Tiffany asked me if I was having a wonderful day and if I had my Chick-fil-A app. My glasses now completely fogged over, I had to put the car in park and unbuckle my seat belt so I could lean closer to the menu board and figure out my order.
Getting home, arms filled with stuff, I squeezed sideways between the two cars in the garage knowing perfectly well the transference of grime from George’s car covered my jacket, as I made my way into the house with the first load. Entering, and being mauled by the dog, George grabbed the Chick-Fil-A and asked if he could help. I thanked him, but we didn’t need more than one set of dirty, sopping boots messing up the kitchen floor. I went back out to the car and pried open the frozen hatch, ice literally cracking and falling from the sides, and got out the first couple paper bags of groceries. Sidestepping again with the heavy bags through the garage, I could see my breath as my glasses fogged up, and could feel my black coat getting a second smear of grime as I blindly navigated my way to the door. Just then, due to the science of bags becoming brittle in subzero temps, one bag tore out of my hand, sending the contents all over the garage floor. I screamed a string of profanities as I got on my knees and began crawling through the muck on the garage floor to retrieve my items.
Long gloveless by that time so as to get a better grip on things, my frozen hands became covered in muck as I wiped off a can of soup that had landed directly in a large chunk of sludge that had loosened itself from the wheel flap and onto the garage floor. George stuck his head out the door, again offering help, but also inadvertently letting the dog fly past him and onto my back, pushing me over onto my butt. Gemma ran in circles around me, gathering sludge on her paws and then mauled me again, this time leaving a trail of ler muddy love all over my face.
I’m going to stop, hoping my point is made. For those of you in the south, just tossing your hair with abandon and hopping into the car for a quick trip to the mart for a ripe tomato in your winter capris and t-shirts, feel lucky. For those of you sharing my experience, I raise my glass. We’re almost at the finish line, folks.
In 2019, I participated in NaNoWriMo—that's National Novel Writing Month encouraging writers to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. This was my first participation, and I accomplished the goal! The novel, entitled Dead Cat, Run, is not part of the Carrows Chronicles series. What? That's right. It's a suspense mystery with romance and paranormal elements. It was great fun to write and I'm working on the editing for that book, too. I can't wait to share it with you. Stayed tuned for more updates next month!
I’ll sign off with a blog I wrote some time back. Pro-writing Aid (a terrific editorial tool) has clocked this story as readable in 1 minute 50 seconds. I thought it an appropriate warmup for the celebration of spring to come. Try fully feeling the second to last paragraph. 😊 (Click the link below the image)