The first snow of the year is beautiful. The world is blanketed in clean, calm white and everything seems more hushed, somehow.
Then, about three days later, the wonder's gone and I'm left with exhaustion and seething resentment at the heavy white stuff that won't stop piling up on my driveway.
Doesn't the snow know that I already hate getting up early in the morning, and setting the alarm extra early so that I can shovel my car out before work is physically painful?
It's not so bad at first. At first, I'm full of energy. The snow isn't that heavy and the wind isn't that cold. I can do this!
The world loses its shiny happy lustre pretty quickly, though. My fulcrum arm (Confession: I've been waiting for a long time to be able to write "my fulcrum arm". I think it makes me sound like a cyborg.) and my back ache from the strain. My exposed skin is icy cold, while a sheen of sweat covers my body under my multiple layers.
There's just so much stinking snow!
A few more heavy shovelfuls. I'm almost done.
I am the overlord of snow! This snow is mine! It bows down before my shovel of doom!
Now back inside to take a shower and get ready for work. I'm running a bit late, but my boss already texted me this morning about the road conditions. She'll understand if I get there a bit later than usual. The hot water feels so good against my cold, clammy skin. At least the pipes to the bathroom aren't frozen.
I get dressed, grab some breakfast, throw my coat back on and rush out to my car.
I hate winter.
Can it be over soon?