I Promised More Later
This is the only word that comes to mind to describe my morning.
Soaking wet? Okay, two words.
Before we went to bed last night I again stood gazing out the window longingly. I seem to do this a lot these days. Am I searching for something up in those black clouds? Perhaps my sanity. But yes, I was looking out the window again onto the street and up at the sky, and it was snowing beautifully. The storm that they were calling for had arrived on time, and it meant business. As I watched, the wind grew fierce and blew wild gusts of snow up into the air, where they swirled frantically, trying to find a place to take hold and rest. I went to sleep knowing that I would wake up to a magical world of white flakes and fluffy sidewalks.
No such luck.
I made it down the stairs in the morning to witness the very last remnants of the fluffiness. Literally the very last. Because seemingly as I watched, the clouds darkened dramatically, thunder ripped through the air, and the heavens opened up on all that magic that would have made me happy. Except now it was gray, dirty sludge. Living in a city the size of Toronto, it does not take long for all the white to turn to brown. Yuck.
So, what now? It's pouring rain, cold, and slushy out there. I received a text from a very lovely and wise friend reading "Jessi's good advice for the day: TAKE THE BUS!". Lovely, wise friend of mine. Unfortunately, no funds for the bus today, so we commence walking. Where my umbrella breaks within five minutes of walking. And it's really pouring. And because Dave is a sweetheart (or a putz) he does not want to use his umbrella if I don't have one to use. And we are walking through slush and mud up to our ankles. The rain is heavy and coming at us sideways, into our faces and eyes, and within minutes our jeans (jeans!!) are soaking wet up to our thighs. We make it in to work 40 minutes late. Very, very wet.
Thank god for space heaters pointed at frozen, damp feet, under our desks.
There is another storm raging out there at the moment. High winds and freezing temperatures are turning all the wet slush to ice as I write. The walk home had us clutching on to each other, afraid we would blow away if we didn't. Tree branches high above us being stretched almost to their breaking points, cracking and snapping loudly when they exceed their flexibility. Outside the attic window, the room that I am sitting in right now, I can hear the wind screaming loudly while it races through the eaves.
It is snowing again though, maybe I will wake up tomorrow to my winter wonderland and feel the magic of the season. Because this morning was just cruel.
Excuse me while I go and burrow under my covers like a big sleepy bear.