I've lived in cold climates before, but this winter seems different. Perhaps it's because the current spread of snow and ice has taught me more about myself than just how unbalanced and clumsy I am (which I already knew, thank you very much).
It's remarkable how quickly employment turns you off of snow. Less than a year ago, I was still overjoyed at the transformative nature of 6 inches of the stuff: overnight, your boring patch of lawn became a foreign expanse of Siberian wilderness, just begging you to trod over its untouched surface and explore its icy magic. Last winter, at age 22 I insisted on attempting to climb the ice-covered hill in my lawn as if it were Everest for the sheer thrill of it (and of course, for the amusement of my roommates). This month brought me a new snow season, but there will be no playtime for the 23-year-old Allison. It was hard enough to accostume myself to a new daily schedule--semester after college semester, my body took extra hours of morning comfort with first period starting at noon; it was torture to have to learn how to get up in time to punch in at 9 a.m. But now, I have to build an extra half hour into my morning ritual for both dressing (long underwear, extra sweater, find gloves, scarf, where'd my hat go?) and for exhuming my car from its icy and/or snowy grave. After sludging through my snow-covered parking lot for the first time in work-appropriate pumps, I suddenly realized that there is a major problem in not wearing socks to work.
I'm not the only one suffering from lack of footwear. My sister's pug Tugg is clearly also over his childlike enjoyment of the snow. I really shouldn't complain, because I get to use the bathroom indoors in the winter. I was walking Tugg one afternoon some time after the latest ice storm hit, and after a few minutes of typical putsing around, Tugg started holding his little paws up to keep them off the freezing concrete. Then he started shivering to the point where I was nearly in tears. Here are the options I considered:
1. holding two of his paws off the ground while he did his business;
2. holding his entire body off the ground while he did his business;
3. running inside and bringing out a warm towel for him to do his business on;
4. putting him inside my car to do his business.
I tried all but number 3. Tugg apparently does not like to be in someone's arms or vehicle while he relieves himself. He finally got it done, but it was torture for both of us.
I do really pity Tugg during this time of year, but when I compare him to wild animals, I suppose he does seem like a spoiled wimp. After scraping my car's windshield clear of ice, I was about to enter and go, when I noticed that there appeared to be fresh flakes falling on my car and nowhere else. At the sound of icy scratching, I looked up at the branches hanging over my parking spot, and saw the underside of a large nest, which appeared to be blowing ice bits out of the top. I cocked my head in curiosity until a squirrel's head popped out of the nest with a mildly annoyed "May I help you?" look. Then he went back to scraping out his nest. I smiled. Apparently everyone shares a similar battle with the winter. I just wonder if Menard's sells tiny scrapers...
