Dear Mother Nature,
Saturday morning, when I went out to shovel the 15cm of snow you’d granted us Friday evening, I was considering offering you anal sex as a way of convincing you to stop. That’s a pretty big deal, you see, especially since the Dear Boyfriend and I don’t practice anal sex.
However, by the time I completed my shovelling – then went back to shovel some of what you were giving me as I was shovelling – I felt as though I’d already been anally-raped by you, and was feeling a bit less generous. That was with me having to go back over some of what I’d done when I first started. Then the Dear Boyfriend shovelled that evening when he got home from work. Then we got snowed in at his cousin’s place, and came home to… well, you know.
I confess, I cried when I tried to get through a lot of it. I couldn’t figure out where to put the snow, on snowbanks already above my head. I couldn’t figure out how to deal with having no place to stand to start on the walkway or the driveway, beyond the patio that I’d already cleared. I didn’t enjoy the novelty of standing in snow that was well past my knees, especially as I knew I had to move that snow somewhere. And I didn’t enjoy the fact that my back hurt, I was exhausted, and coming down with a cold from the plague twins at my office.
But I managed. I managed to clear a one-shovel-width path from our front door to the driveway. I even managed to clear a wider than one-shovel-width path from the top of our driveway to the foot. As the DB was at work, dealing with the lack of staff, I made the executive decision to start piling the snow against the garage. It seemed to work, in that it wasn’t under my feet anymore.
This morning, when I went to catch my bus to work, I was heartened at the fact that a path seemed to have been stomped for me already, as the city hasn’t yet seen fit to clear the path properly. However, that path turned right, towards the shopping complex; only brave and hearty souls had ventured forward, towards the bus stop – which, curiously enough, had a higher snowbank than anywhere else along that road. Granted, it was a novelty to stand six feet in the air and try to decide whether or not to cross the street for the bus (it loops around near me), or stay where I was… but I was also afraid that any moment, I’d sink into the snow below me and wind up with a boot, sock and pantleg full of the miserable stuff.
So, thank you Mother Nature, for your bounty and blessing. If this has anything to do with me leaving you behind when I went to Cuba, I apologize. I did miss you, if only because I assumed you’d be taking your winter wonderland away and blessing us once more with summer, or at the very least, spring. I brought you back some presents, but I’m afraid that since, at the moment, we don’t appear to be speaking – for some reason, I feel as though you’re upset with me – I’m not sure they’ll be properly appreciated. I do hope you’ll see fit towards forgiving me soon, as I do enjoy your company… and especially your sense of humour.