“We’re forecast to get a wintry mix on Sunday Adrian,” my editor told me this afternoon.
“Oh, that sounds nice!” I said, envisioning some sort of delicious Christmas-themed assortment of snacks.
For the record: I’m not very clever.
Wintry mix involves a combination of ice pellets, freezing rain and snow. Thankfully I stocked up on snacks and frozen pizzas today, because I envision not leaving the house all weekend once I knock off work on Friday night.
My editor also told me this week that Mainers are “weather-obsessed”, and I’m truly beginning to see why. For instance on Tuesday, my second ever night of work at the KJ, I was called in early because the newspaper deadline had been brought forward to accommodate for an incoming snowstorm that was going to make it difficult for the delivery trucks to bring the finished product up from the presses in Portland, an hour south. Makes sense, right? I thought so too.
Work aside, I’m already joining in on the weather obsession. The temperatures don’t particularly bother me – I’m wearing layers, a beanie and gloves, so who gives a shit if it’s -6*C or -26*C? – given I spend most of my time indoors anyway. But even when I’m outside, it’s not the cold but the conditions underfoot that give me cause for concern.
You see, powdery snow like we’ve been having looks real pretty, but gets dirty and slushy fast once cars drive over it. This of course wouldn’t be a problem if I was also behind the wheel, because then I would only have to get the stuff on my shoes and pants legs when I go from the car to the supermarket, or car to work, or car to…well, you get the point. Unfortunately, dear reader, I’m not driving because the state of Maine requires me to sit both written and driving tests before I’m eligible for a driver’s license, which then permits me to register and insure a car. Well then.
Since I’m somewhat home-bound (a story for an upcoming post) without a car in a town that hasn’t got any public transit, there are only a few ways I can fill my pre-work hours. Gym is about to return to my regularly scheduled programming, so today I decided to walk the mile and a half to the local 24-hour fitness center to check out the facilities.
Problem is, snowplows only plow roads, not sidewalks. That leaves two options: walk in ankle-deep brown slush on the “footpath” or walk on slippery brown slush on the asphalt. I chose the latter, but it was still a slog and after almost two kilometers in three layers of warm clothing, I was (ONCE AGAIN!) wiping sweat off my brow for the entirety of the 20-minute tour of the gym, which is just a great first impression to make on a bunch of fit people.
God, I can’t wait to own a car again. I’ll never have to walk anywhere again.
(Look at me assimilating!)