You are currently viewing I used to like the snow. But now I’m just disappointed. In life.

I used to like the snow. But now I’m just disappointed. In life.

It’s official. I’m old. I hate the snow.

Well I guess I don’t really hate the snow. I think it’s beautiful. When I’m sitting on my couch in front of my fireplace with a glass of I don’t give a care in my hand.

But that wasn’t the case this week. I had to go out in the snow. I had to be one with the snow.

I had to shovel the snow. Dig my car out of the snow. Drive in the snow. Get stuck in the snow. Get pulled out of the snow. Get pushed out of the snow.

Until this week I didn’t know getting pulled out was even an option. But it is. And it involves a chain. Scary stuff. I find myself in some real situations.

One thing I definitely learned this week is that Beau’s mid-life crisis mobile is not a vessel that can withstand the elements. Like most sports cars. It lacks the ability to stay on the road in said situations. But the CD player works great so you see my dilemma.

Prefers the beach.

I got stuck in the parking lot at work. For a good thirty minutes. Rocking back and forth over and over like my dad mentioned to me once. That was his advice. So I followed it. Until it dawned on me that my dad said that in passing 30 years ago and maybe I needed a better plan. Besides he wasn’t much of an advice giver.

And just then, this tiny little woman, in a giant SUV, appears. She wants to help. She’s 5 foot nothin‘, 100 and nothin‘. She was just so petite. Like a fun sized candy bar. Too adorable to eat. I was jealous.

But I didn’t see how this was going to work. She was so sweet but my better judgement told me I’d end up running her over. Or worse, I’d have to get out of the car and help.

So I kept telling her. Don’t worry my friends will all be out to help me soon. It’s okay. I have so many friends that will be out soon. They’re coming. I just know they are. To help me. Because I have lots of friends.

In ten minutes time, the entire school would be dismissed and I’d be blocking everyone, in the entire place, in the parking lot. I was able to rock and roll out of my spot but now I was stuck getting out of the lot. I knew my friend Sue would be along soon enough with her big rig to come push me to safety, but I was trying to avoid that and being the laughing stock of the entire school.

The tiny-little-woman-person wanted to pull me out with a chain. Now, I don’t know much about cars, or chains, but I didn’t see this ending well either. I was picturing Beau’s mid-life crisis mobile torn to pieces in that lot. And it hurt my heart.

A chain? Where would we even put such a thing? I was skeptical.

Not to mention, my cousin Shelly gave me some sage advice once. Always think twice when someone is trying to put something somewhere you’re not familiar with. When you have to ask, “you want to put what where?” it’s probably time to bounce.

Solid advice that has gotten me out of plenty a big-giant-humongous pickle in my day.

So I finally convinced this woman-child to let me freeze to death alone. She didn’t seem to believe me that I had any friends. The pity in her petite little eyes told me what she really thought of me. They said, you’re dumb. You’re behaving like Kirby in St. Elmo’s Fire. Your pride is literally going to kill you.

But I showed her. I just kept right on digging with my little brush and doing the rock and roll that Jackie O taught me, and as sure as the plows were nowhere to be found, I finally got myself on to that main road.

Where I was promptly almost rolled by a CTA bus. But I was free. For now.

And I was off. To drive home on the Dan Ryan to really solidify that it wasn’t my time to die. Just a huge reminder, though, that I could die at any given moment. But today was not that day. Today was just reminder after freaking reminder. Of how scary death looks. Even with zero visibility.

Is this really the best we can do?

I finally make it home. Alive. Only to be greeted by the littlest snowperson I have ever seen. It’s as if my kids knew about the tiny-little-woman-helper-fairy I had met earlier in the day and replicated her right there on my front lawn. Amazing.

Thank god that darn Groundhog said spring was coming soon. I can’t wait.

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