I watch the skies. I watch the cold, menacing clouds. They mock me. I see their eyes, demonic, red with fire as they glare upon me – knowing. What do they know? They know that I’m going to have to get up a half hour early – 5:30 AM – to brush and scrape off my car, dig a path behind it so I can back out of my space, and drive 15 miles at 30 mph in order to get to work on time.
The clouds fill up with evil. They giggle as they anticipate the drop. I seethe with anger that alternates with a paralyzing winter depression. It makes me want to die in the most painful way possible – watching reruns of the 1970’s poor Black people are funny sitcom Good Times.
Many scream: “This will be the final major winter storm of the season!” Many cheer. I remain on my ass whenever possible. I’m far from convinced. The cloud demons laugh as they proclaim that this winter will last well into July. “It’s a new Ice Age”, they say.
There’s likely not a new Ice Age upon us, but all I know is that I have to drive 15 miles through a snowstorm through farmland where the wind is unimpeded and trying to blow my ass off the road. I’m angry.