What my car looked like this morning before I dug it out.
The phone rings at six motherfuckin’ thirty a.m. in the morning and it’s my boss. In my stupor, I try to be clever.
“I’m ready for work,” I mumble into the phone the best I can before my first cup of coffee.
“Uh, yeah. We’re snowed in today, so work from home,” my confused supervisor says.
I take enough time to hang up the phone, look at the clock, and give a brief hallelujah before I drift off until 9 a.m., an hour and a half later than when I usually wake up when a foot of snow doesn't fall over night.
A great thing about being Canadian is a snow day. These are the times when Mother Nature tells us apartment dwellers to take a break while we sip hot chocolate and watch those foolish enough to own property tunnel their way out of their houses. Eat it homeowner!
One thing that beats mocking people with more responsibility and stability than me is spending the day made for Frosty the Snowman with someone special. Since the city is shut down while plows figure out where to put the icy mass, there’s no need to hurry to work or worry about putting the coffee on right away. Instead, you can linger in bed and do whatever couples do when they, er, linger in bed. Then it’s onto a leisurely breakfast before heading back to bed or on a walk to see check out the freshly blanketed neighbourhood.
As I sat at my kitchen table, sipping my Turtles-flavoured hot cocoa and pretending that some gorgeous girl was sharing half of my breakfast sandwich, I watched the couple next door dig out their car. It wasn’t as if this activity was a chore, but something fun to do with your girlfriend/boyfriend. I almost choked on my toast as they threw snow at each other like some sort of Care Bears special.
That was followed by memories of blizzards spent in the company of a cute girl and a slight pang of loneliness. So I went back to bed. And man, an extra pillow just doesn’t do it for me.
