Okay, here’s the thing. I’m a native Angeleno, one of a rare and dying breed. In Los Angeles, in case you were unaware, we don’t have actual winters. Once, about fifty years ago, it was 28º. That still holds the title for Coldest Day Ever in a Not Very Cold Place (I know, I know, someone reading this right now in Minnesota is laughing so hard they can’t breathe). Anyway, recently I decided it would be a good idea to move three thousand miles to the East Coast to attend university. Technically, I’ve lived on the East Coast before, but not during actual wintertime. Queue the cold. And snow. And ice. And other stuff that’s white and falls from the sky but people laugh at you if you call it snow? Flurry, they call it?
- Murphy’s Law is a terrible, terrible truth, especially when it’s 19º and snow piled against everything. I went outside tonight to empty an outdoor trashcan in a polo shirt with the thickness and warmth of a damp Kleenex because hey, it was right next to the door and would take all of thirty seconds. Besides, I didn’t want to risk getting muck on my coat. There had not been so much as a hint of a dream of a breeze all day, but as soon as I tried to line the can, it was ripped out of the can with so much force and gusto that I’m still half-convinced that Airbenders were responsible. By the third time I muscled the liner back into the can, I was essentially manipulating the bag by sight alone since I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. It wasn’t fun, guys.
- Snow is gorgeous. It really is. It’s a white blanket of winter wonderland. Yeah, but then people drive on it and walk in it and the Second Law of Thermodynamics kicks in. It gets gross. It looks like dirty mud, and by that I mean mud that looks dirty even by mud standards. It looks like people have been using to clean their engines and mop up oil spills. Dirty snow looks like the scat of a diuretic demon bear.
- That icy, snowy, slushy sludge that people track inside on their shoes dries to look to spilled milk. It looks like someone stood in the middle of the room, ripped the lid of a gallon of milk, and then performed fifteen pirouettes en pointe with the jug balanced on her head. And here I figured that snow and ice are both basically water. Water is clear. Therefore snow and ice would dry to be clear. No. They don’t.
- I used to think the concept of ski masks were stupid, except possibly in the context of robbing a bank. Now I don’t.
- There are people in this world who walk around in sandals, gym shorts, and a t-shirts, their only concession to the undeniable fact that the ground is covered in snow being to wear socks with their sandals. I don’t understand these people. Meanwhile, I’m in jeans and leggings, shirt and sweater, coat, scarf, gloves, boots, hat, and the thickest socks this side of the North Pole.
- Snow days are brilliant.
- It never occurred to me to wonder how to remove snow from the inside of your boot before it melts onto the carpet. Now I have.
Long days and pleasant nights from the Tale-Weaver.