Well, it’s official. Winter and I are at war.
I was going to play nice. I was going to smile as I tugged on my boots, dug out my mittens, and wrapped a scarf an infinite number of times around my neck. But winter doesn’t play nice–winter fights dirty.
It started this weekend when my friend Susan and I slid off the interstate after a snow storm. I mean, sure, it actually wasn’t as harrowing as it sounds; we were fine, the car was fine. I didn’t even take it personally. LOADS of cars slide off the interstate, right?
Then today hit a little too close to home. I got stuck in the snow IN MY DRIVEWAY. After a humiliating display of driving in reverse, then forward, then reverse, then forward–resulting only in digging myself deeper into the mud–a friendly (sketchy) neighbor man offered to plow my driveway and push me out for $20. I readily agreed, even though he looked like the sort of person who might mug me for booze money.
When he came by later to pick up his fee (I don’t carry cash normally, ok?), he actually handed me a cleverly worded business card for snow removal. So I stand corrected on his sketchiness.
Moral of the story: Don’t judge a book by its cover. And get your snow tires put on the FIRST time your dad tells you to.