It has been snowing for what seems like five hundred days in a row. I’m almost certain I am suffering from frost bite even though I haven’t left the house in a week. That’s a lie; I have shoveled snow. And shoveled snow, and shoveled snow, and shoveled snow. Because I am old and weak, I have to shovel snow each time an inch accumulates so I don’t snap my geriatric spine.
The sad thing is I don’t live in New England. So I just sound like a big whiney baby to the New Englanders. But they should be used to that whiney sound, what with having Tom Brady around for all those years. (Hmmm, now I’m wondering if all the NE snow is Jesus crying frozen tears because the Patriots won the Super Bowl.) At any rate, I do not claim to be suffering from the same snow buildup as the far north, just enough to make me miserable.
I don’t like to complain (who am I kidding; it’s my favorite thing to do), since the harsh winters are self-induced because we moved to WV by choice. When we were in DC, a light dusting would shut down the whole city. In WV if it snows AND ices AND has sub-arctic temps, the schools will close. Otherwise, life goes on as usual. There will be a noticeable decline in the amount of bread, milk, toilet paper at the Walmart just in case it turns into a NE-sized storm, but no noticeable decline in the number of people. Only difference is everyone wearing an extra layer of Carhartt.
Because I was so miserable last year, this year we scheduled a tropical vacation in the middle of January to get a break from the cold winter weather. Yeah, big mistake. Spending a week in weather so warm that I got a heat rash did not make it easier to get through the rest of winter once I returned home. Back in the mountains, instead of feeling refreshed and relaxed, every day I wake up anxiously wondering whether or not it will be a day in which I have more fingers on my hand than degrees on the thermometer.
To kill some time while I am housebound, I decided to watch Fargo to remind myself of what real winter weather is like. After fifteen minutes of snowy landscape scenes, I yelled “this is why someone ends up in a wood chipper” and turned it off. I also realized this is the reason The Shining is Steven King’s best work. Everyone relates to snow madness. Although I didn’t watch the movie; too scary.
Now I am spending my days looking at Caribbean real estate. Did you know you can buy a condo in St Croix for $70,000? Sure, the second bedroom is created by hanging a blue shower curtain across the middle of the room, but who cares? Lack of A/C guarantees I will be warm, and the 500-watt mobile work light being used as a bedside lamp will ensure I can clearly see the lizards as they sneak in through the rotted window screens.
I’m no right-wing conspiracy theorist, but I’m starting to think Al Gore made up global warming to keep us from buying land in the tropics so he could have it all for himself. Of course not everyone is into that sort of thing. (Some people actually like cold weather and snow; they are not to be trusted.) But from where I am sitting, Al Gore is looking a lot like the devil. Well except for the part where he invented the internet, which I’m using to look at real estate in the tropics while freezing my ass off in the frozen tundra, so maybe he’s not all bad…