I'm ready for winter...I think. Just two weeks ago, we were still having weather in the 60's and 70's and this week? 20 degrees and inches of snow that seems to be staying put, at least until Sunday when temperatures will start to climb again.
Over the past five or six years, winter has taken it's toll on me. Of course, for four of those years, I was living and/or working in Cleveland, where winters are far more brutal than they are here, a mere 60 miles south. So, I always approach fall with trepidation, foreseeing what's around the corner. But I'm trying to avoid letting dread of the future step on my wa.* I don't need extra, unnecessary angst baggage, thank you very much.
On Monday, snow tumbled from the clouds and filled the windows in our office with static. We periodically craned our necks to get a look and proclaim, "Wow, look at all that snow." When lunchtime rolled around, I toyed with the idea of jumping in the car instead of walking to the grocery to get my salad lunch. But, I was wearing my boots, I had my gloves and winter coat...why not walk?
So, Jeff and I made our way to the Iggle in a light snow. On the way into the produce section, we were treated to a spectacular display of mullets. There was an older couple where the man had your standard mullet and his lovely lady friend had a modified femmullet (feathered on the sides, long in back). We sighed in delight and fought the urge to snap a picture. It's really the small miracles, isn't it? I got my salad and we tromped back to the front door and exited into a swirling snow extravaganza.
"Wow, look at all that snow!" we both said.
We continued our return to work, talking about this and that. But I couldn't help interrupting Jeff and expressing my amazement. The snowfall was so perfect: big, one-inch flake clusters, spiraling around us like fairies on crack. It seemed to have been choreographed by some crazy genius, maybe Paula Abdul.
Making our way across the parking lot, we were walking into the snow, so we had to look down, lest we take snowflakes in the eyes. It was so odd, because the snow was blowing by fast and it looked like we were not moving forward at all. It was a cool illusion of perspective. I wanted to notice this, point it out to everyone around me and remember it.
Throughout my journey through the snow globe, I could sense rumblings in the back of my mind: this snow is going to cost me money. I'm going to need to run the furnace more. I'm going to have to turn the lights on earlier in the evening. I'm going to have to heat the car up and leave it running. Yeah, maybe. But I'm ready for that. And I'm done being angry at the amount of money it takes to live. I've determined that it's my job to compartmentalize that shit and get on with life. I've learned I can't silence my negativity, but I can quiet it by acknowledging it's there and moving on, kind of like you would do with the arachnid exhibit at the zoo. As much as I don't like spiders, I recognize their value and I don't dwell on them. And my negativity does have value...it keeps me from blowing all my money on stupid shit...for the most part.
But getting back to Monday's snowfall...I think I will always remember it, especially if I see the likes of it again. It's the kind of thing that could inspire me to write a poem. Maybe I will...
*This will probably be the only footnote you see from me. Ever. I'm using it because I don't want to break the flow of my paragraph defining what you'll probably understand if I just let you find your way in the context of the paragraph. But for those who get lost: "Wa" is a term of general well-being. I think it's from Doc's bag of phraseology, but it may be a bit of new-agery.