wintery mix

It started snowing at 2:30 with the promise of the kind of accumulation that makes people here start grumbling about the blizzard of ’78, and the only thing to do was knock off work early and go for tacos.

I am trying. The older I get the more winter tests both my patience and my optimist’s nature, on top of which the universe dropped a steaming turd of disappointment in my lap last weekend that was kind of alarming in the scope of both its insult and injury. But I’m making chicken and rice in the crockpot, there’s a new shower curtain in my bathroom (an idea I blatantly stole from Erin and I was surprised by how much it cheered me up), and I’m skipping my school reading today in favor of the Rookie Yearbook. Like 4 winters ago I was really fannish about something that made it necessary to listen to Michael Bolton pandora all the time, a cold-weather habit which has stuck, if only because trudging through snowdrifts is made marginally more enjoyable to me with a greatest-hits soundtrack from the year 1992.

It’s not as bad out there as they said it was going to be, really. It’s not so bad in here, either.