I know we are still getting to know each other and so far I think things are going pretty well. I like lakes, you have a lot of lakes. I want to be thinner, you have a lot of fit people that guilt me into trying harder to lose weight. See? We are practically soul mates already.
The thing is, though, we need to talk. About the snow.
I never thought I’d settle as an adult in a place where snow happens so early or so much. I pictured myself in California or maybe somewhere in the south-but-not-too-southern part of the country, where it gets cold enough to warrant long sleeves and jeans – because I look great in a good pair of jeans – but doesn’t really snow. Or at the very least, snows so seldom that everything shuts down when the weather even threatens it. Because why bother unless we’re getting something out of it, like a surprise day off work? But here everyone is ready for snow beginning in September and we never get a day off for bad weather.
I don’t like snowmen or snow angels. I like hot toddies in August just as much as I like them in January. Or November, as the case may be. I am perfectly happy ice skating indoors and visiting Colorado to ski (not that I ice skate or ski, but you know, IN THEORY).
You can imagine my horror when, while preparing to head home from Chicago on Sunday, Zack mentioned we should hit the road early so we would miss the snow.
I am still mentally preparing to wear a fucking COAT, Minnesota. I am not at all ready for blizzards and power outages and digging my car out in the mornings, not to mention the jumping up and down to keep blood flowing while Arlo looks for a shallow spot to take a dump.
Psh, I thought we were cool like that, Minnesota. I thought you understood me.
I had to buy a SNOW SHOVEL yesterday. You know, because I will be NEEDING TO DIG MY WAY OUT OF MY HOUSE AT SOME NOT-TOO-DISTANT POINT. Which is so two thousand and late. For some reason our new neighbors downstairs enjoy spoiling the hell out of us when it comes to yard work and had cleared our sidewalk and porch by the time we arrived home yesterday. Point for you, Minnesota, with your Minnesota nice. Now I have to think of something nice to do for them, like buy them a bottle of wine or give them a lap dance. Shit. I don’t have a fancy enough bra for lap dancing. I hope they like wine or maybe the heartfelt gift of not letting my dog drop his enormous bone on our hardwood floors 87,000 times a day.
The good news is I think we can work this out. You give a little, I’ll give a little. We’ll compromise. You try to keep the snow to a minimum number of downfalls and I’ll agree to be okay with the few times it does snow being epic, school-and-work-closing events. It’s win-win, right?
Also, if you could work something out where it snows on mornings when Zack has to wake up first, that would be totally awesome. I mean, I’m just sayin’.
Very sincerely wishing I didn’t have to be yours for the next five months or so,