Let It Snow

It’s really not too bad, only a foot of snow. In certain parts of nearby states like New York and Connecticut, it can be two feet. One would think global warming has made snow obsolete for the latitude and the altitude we are in. For the past three years, it seems true. We’ve had no snow last year, no snow the year before, and negligible snow three years ago. When one has lived three years without something, one starts to feel it’s going to be this way forever.

Then the news came of this early snow storm. And for the past week, I’ve been praying for the unpredictability of the weather and the fallibility of the meteorologists, but to no avail. What was forecasted eventually came, even punctually, dumped a foot of snow and left.

I am not interested in any activity that involves physical exertions. And I have to go through certain mental processes to get myself ready to go out there and fight the snow.

  • Staring at one of your neighbors who’s blissfully pushing his snowblower and envisioning yourself begging for assistance. You will never do that. You don’t have enough social skills to beg gracefully. Also you just can’t stop thinking that your neighbors are going to talk among themselves about those weaknesses of yours–not willing to shell out money is one of them. You are a proud girl who has muscles, not much, but enough for the time being.
  • Pretending it is a fitness program. One hour of snow shoveling will burn 400 to 600 calories. Let’s be optimistic and self aggrandizing to think that you can touch the 600 upper limit even if your rational self thinks that you cannot. In order to boost your spirit, you change into your favorite fitness outfit, which you have only wore twice since the purchase.
  • Imagining yourself being a woman warrior like Xena, Mulan, or Joan of Arc. Obviously your shovel is not a humble shovel, but a bloody sword. All those fantasy movies with strong women figures who save the world should come to your assistance. Obviously you can never get the glorified job of saving the world, which belong to those who are outgoing, who can’t stop talking, who are overdressed, who show different physiognomy, who speak a different accent. Don’t despair. They know how to save the world, but you know how to create a world of your own liking.
  • Thinking of the huge meal afterwards, which one can eat without guilt.
  • Picturing yourself writing a uniquely insightful poem about snow, but this is not going to happen. The snow doesn’t inspire a Frost or Dickinson in you. You don’t see that kind of poetry when pushing the slush or piling a snow hill. You probably see Sandburg or Bokowski. That’s more likely. Or probably the rap lyrics, which still amaze you with their ability to make the seemingly unrhymed language rhyme.

My hands feel funny, my wrists strained, my back a little tight. How nice.

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