I know, I know, everyone is bitching about the snow. But it took me TWO hours to get home from work tonight. TWO HOURS. That's two hours of listening to the smack and screech of the windshield wipers covered in ice scraping over the windshield, also covered in ice. That's two hours of driving with the window down because the heat has to be BLASTING in order to keep the windshield from completely freezing over. Which didn't even work, by the way. Two hours of cold toes because the God Damn Heat has to be BLASTING on the window, and ONLY on the window so that a teeny tiny patch of window remains clear. TWO FREAKING HOURS. I think I've earned the right to bitch for a minute.
There was a certain novelty of watching the thermometer on my dash dip below zero last month. Just how cold could it get? Seeing -17 on the dash, at the time, was pretty damn cool. Waking up to -7 last week, randomly, was considerably less cool. Did you know it's impossible to buckle a child in his car-seat when you're wearing mittens? And do you know how fast your fingers get cold when it's -7 out and you can't wear your mittens? Pretty damn fast.
This morning I told Ben it was going to snow again and he got all excited. I told him I am ready for spring. I am ready for shorts and t-shirts and flip flops. I'm ready for grass and sand and the beach. He quickly changed his mind and decided he's ready for spring too.
We're all ready for spring.
Instead I got a two hour car ride home in the snow.
I am so done with winter.