We woke to snow the other day. Only an inch, but due to the below-freezing temps here, it quickly turned to black ice. So this morning it started snowing again, which made walking to school treacherous because the black ice was lurking beneath the new snowfall. The main roads are mainly clear, so it’s actually safer to drive than walk.I really effing hate snow. I don’t find it fun or wonderful. Well, I do, but only when I don’t have to go out in it. I’m quite happy if my cupboards are stocked and we get snowed in. It’s when they aren’t stocked and the snowfall was unexpected that gets me. Trying to get out to the supermarket becomes a mammoth task, and with everyone else on the planet in there whipping groceries into their trollies as though the damn food is going to run out any second, it isn’t an enjoyable experience. I mean, I don’t fancy getting arrested for smacking some mofo over the head for the last carton of milk she’s gripping in her grubby little paws.
So today, no sooner had me and Smallest got to the alleyway, she went arse over tit. She was wearing her new wellies and wasn’t used to how they felt on her feet, plus that ice I mentioned didn’t help. (It annoys me that Word changes wellies to willies. I’m offended that even my Word programme knows I write erotica now and assumes I'd wanted to type something rude.)
Anyway, I’m tottering alongside her, in heels, for eff’s sake—what was I thinking?—praying I didn’t fall over too. I slipped a couple of times, refraining from doing that stupid, womanly noise we all seem to do when we slide on ice or trip in general (Whooop! Oh, deary me! Hee hee hee! Blush) and made it to the school in one piece.
When you next go out into the snow, watch how people walk stiff-legged through fear of falling. Everyone looks like they have a broom handle shoved up their arse. I was no exception. Also, because the snow was coming down, I had my new umbrella up. Hubby pointed out before we left that it matched Smallest’s wellies (red with pink spots—and if you think about Word changing wellies THIS time, I’d say the willy needed a doctor looking at it), so not only are we a family of matching hats, we’re a coordinating mother and daughter. This is starting to make me look really sad…
God, I need to keep track of what I was actually saying. Going off on tangents here. Umm, yeah, the umbrella. So I’m walking along and realised that I was gripping the umbrella handle for dear life. Like doing so would keep me from slipping? I then noticed how much my whole body had tensed due to this evil white stuff that had chosen to fall from the sky and annoy the shit out of everyone. My muscles had had a better workout than when I do my aerobics DVD. Shit, I’m sitting here feeling exhausted now. And I have to do it all over again at 3 o’clock. Marvellous!
I used to love winter. Now, not so much. It equals chapped lips, red noses, colds, coughs, streaming eyes and all manner of things that get on my tits. Oh well, just another thing to add to my list of bugs. And that list, it seems, is getting longer the older I get. I’ll be one of those grouchy old bitches who grumbles and moans at the slightest thing. Rock on!
I just glanced out the window. Some mad bastard just rode up our road on a bicycle. The black ice is really bad in our street. I’m sitting here with my head cocked, waiting for the sound of thuds and “Oh, shit!” as they fall off. And I’m not joking, I glanced out again and some young thing is running down the street. Jesus, I bow to her braveness. Is she inviting a broken leg or what? Maybe that’s the way to go. Run in snow. Ride your bike on black ice. Live dangerously instead of being cautious. Fuck it, throw caution to the wind and go outside with no shoes on and “fake ice skate” to your destination.
Cripes. I’m leaving the crazy sods to it and getting on with my to-do list. Where it’s warm and safe, the kettle is nearby, and the cookies are too close. If they get any closer, I’ll eat them and they’ll be closer than ever before—stuck to my arse and hips.
Whatever the weather where you are, have a great day!
When you next go out into the snow, watch how people walk stiff-legged through fear of falling. Everyone looks like they have a broom handle shoved up their arse. I was no exception. Also, because the snow was coming down, I had my new umbrella up. Hubby pointed out before we left that it matched Smallest’s wellies (red with pink spots—and if you think about Word changing wellies THIS time, I’d say the willy needed a doctor looking at it), so not only are we a family of matching hats, we’re a coordinating mother and daughter. This is starting to make me look really sad…
God, I need to keep track of what I was actually saying. Going off on tangents here. Umm, yeah, the umbrella. So I’m walking along and realised that I was gripping the umbrella handle for dear life. Like doing so would keep me from slipping? I then noticed how much my whole body had tensed due to this evil white stuff that had chosen to fall from the sky and annoy the shit out of everyone. My muscles had had a better workout than when I do my aerobics DVD. Shit, I’m sitting here feeling exhausted now. And I have to do it all over again at 3 o’clock. Marvellous!
I used to love winter. Now, not so much. It equals chapped lips, red noses, colds, coughs, streaming eyes and all manner of things that get on my tits. Oh well, just another thing to add to my list of bugs. And that list, it seems, is getting longer the older I get. I’ll be one of those grouchy old bitches who grumbles and moans at the slightest thing. Rock on!
I just glanced out the window. Some mad bastard just rode up our road on a bicycle. The black ice is really bad in our street. I’m sitting here with my head cocked, waiting for the sound of thuds and “Oh, shit!” as they fall off. And I’m not joking, I glanced out again and some young thing is running down the street. Jesus, I bow to her braveness. Is she inviting a broken leg or what? Maybe that’s the way to go. Run in snow. Ride your bike on black ice. Live dangerously instead of being cautious. Fuck it, throw caution to the wind and go outside with no shoes on and “fake ice skate” to your destination.
Cripes. I’m leaving the crazy sods to it and getting on with my to-do list. Where it’s warm and safe, the kettle is nearby, and the cookies are too close. If they get any closer, I’ll eat them and they’ll be closer than ever before—stuck to my arse and hips.
Whatever the weather where you are, have a great day!
Shameless pimping…
Over at Three Wicked Writers Plus Two, every weekday up until Christmas you can win a prize. There’s already an ebook to win from Madison Scott on yesterday’s post, so get your arses over there and leave a comment if that takes your fancy, and pop by every day to see what you could win! Goodies galore!
