let’s complain about snow (again)

We haven’t had any snow here yet, but I have a bad feeling about this winter. So I’m shopping for boots and I’ve never been so mad about anything in my life. I recently realized that in all 34 years of my life I’ve never been *angry*. I’ve been happy and sad and frustrated and annoyed. But never angry. Snow makes me as close to angry as I’ve ever been.

When I still lived in Pennsylvania, I owned snow boots. I have hated snow boots since I was in elementary school. My parents would make me wear them, but I would put my regular shoes back on before I actually got outside so that nobody would see them. My dad caught me, because of course he did, I was a child and didn’t know enough to wait until I at least got to the corner, out of sight of our apartment. As a kid I was often grounded for stupid things, like being late for dinner and changing out of my snow boots. They said it was so I would learn things like being late makes them worry and not wearing snow boots means I’ll get pneumonia and die. (emphasis on death is mine.) I did not learn that. I only bought snow boots as an adult in Pennsylvania because I walked to work and it snowed a lot and I also have a habit of falling while walking in snow. Like, a lot. Like at least five times each season.

So anyway, before I moved to Virginia I got rid of my snow boots. I was moving south! I wouldn’t need them! They only get big snow storms like once every ten years! In January I will have been here eleven years and we’ve had at least three huge snow storms that have resulted in the city shutting down and me being trapped in my house and then having to shovel snow that was half as high as me and I am close to being almost the same height as an average adult woman.

These four storms do not include other minor storms that also required shoveling. And for the past ten years, when I needed to shovel, I wore tennis shoes and then my socks got wet and my feet got cold and while I did not get pneumonia and die, I did get very sad about my wet, cold feet. And so now, as we enter my eleventh winter here, I am buying boots. Is this adulthood? Have I finally reached it?

To be clear, I am not actually buying snow boots. They are ugly and make me sad and very close to angry. But I am buying waterproof boots that are only mildly hideous. The other thing about boots is that they go over my ankles and shoes that go over my ankles make me feel very trapped and as with when snow shuts down the city I do not like being trapped. I could never have been a Victorian women, for the need to free my ankles is far too great.

It’s the last business day of 2017. I understand, intellectually, how and why the year changes, but it still makes no sense. I guess that’s why my favorite New Year’s Eve activity is going to bed at 11pm in the current year and waking up in the new year. But usually, like this year, I will go out, wish everyone a happy new year at 12am, leave at 12:02am and go to bed and wake up in a new year. It just doesn’t have the same effect. Let’s make new year’s eve parties slumber parties where we all go to bed at 11pm, then wake up and have waffles and mimosas. I have amazing ideas. When your party hosts ask you to bring a sleeping bag next year, please remember that you heard it here first.

It’s time to press “buy” on these boots and drown my sorrows in more coffee. Until 2018, my friends.

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