Complex Numbers

Something about Snow

There's something about snow.

I mean, from one point of view, it's an utter pain in the ass. Like today... okay, actually yesterday, but you know what I mean. I didn't even bother waking up in time to go to work, because there was no way in hell I was getting out. I slept in, giving the sun time to come all the way up (knowing full well that of all the days of the year, it would be "up" for the shortest possible time).

Then I went out and shoveled the bastard stuff. From my front stoop, down the flagstone walk, up and down the sidewalk in both directions, to my truck's doors, and in front of the truck so I could maybe eventually leave. All the time, I was hacking up whatever's been in my lungs as I've been sick on and off all month.

All the people on my street were performing similar activities, with varying degrees of equanimity. My one neighbor (not the hateful bitch uphill, but the nice guy downhill) helped out a bit with the digging out.

It took about three hours.

That is the longest time I've been outdoors since the beach.

My cat, Ghost, kept walking on the fragile film of ice that had formed on top of the two feet of snow. Occasionally, a paw would break through the crust, and he'd shake it and keep walking - until the next paw broke through the crust.

Snow is transformative. I think that's why it's so closely associated with the Christmas season. I mean, in some parts of the US, snow in December may be commonplace, but not here. Here, when we get it at all, it's in January or February, when everyone hates it except for schoolkids. No, snow at Yuletide has the connotation of wiping a slate clean, shaking the Etch-a-Sketch.

I didn't like it, mind you. But it's still transformative. Friday night, everything became quiet, and all I could hear was the soft hiss of snowflakes piling up on the yard (and all I could think was, "Holy shit. I'm going to have to shovel this shit eventually.") Everything became white. Everything developed soft curves, like a supermodel.

I should be writing right now, by the way, and not in the blog. I have a story idea and everything. It's just not flowing. The snow didn't help that.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Anyway, snow. I managed to get out and take my wife to her workplace. I wasn't in any hurry to get to my own - not a lot of work, and it's not like my partner would make it in. Driving around, I was glad I had four wheel drive: bastards hadn't done much to clear the roads. In their defense, this is the most snow we've gotten since forever. In everyone else's defense, what the FUCK are they doing with our tax money?

Three bone-jarring hours later - when snow gets compacted into ice on the road, it develops a nasty washboard effect - I came back home.

I don't know if I'll go out tomorrow or not. I'm definitely waiting for the sun to melt some ice, first.

Still, the snow made things different, for a while.

But not as different as it made Times Square:

http://blog.ricecracker.net/2009/12/20/snowball-fight-times-square/