Friday Photo #38
Alas, Mr. Snowstorm. We Meet Yet Again...
Okay, so believe it or not, it hasn't snow here for about four days.
I know, right? But wait, there's more. Fueled by a mysterious large, glowing orb I believe you call the Sun, the temps were high enough to start the big melt. So much so, we could see actual grass here and there.
No shit. Grass. Seriously.
Not to mention I actually wore footwear other than my spectacular bright orange, quilted Lands End snow shoes.
Hurrah!! It seemed things were starting to look up. I could see a faint light at the end of Winter's dark, dank, miserable tunnel.
Aaaaah, but February, that fat f*ck, had other sadistic ideas and decided to dump yet another substantial storm on our collective heads this morning. So I have once again donned my bright orange PennDot galoshes, pulled my hood tightly over my pea-sized head and armed myself with our super-scooper shovel to push to the curb the latest load of the Lord's beauty.
And now my fingers are numb and burning from spreading salt like I was tossing beads to tanked-up, topless Tarts at Mardi Gras.
Whoa Whoa Whoa. Not so fast. Hold on there, Skippy. It's STILL snowing...steadily. So I'll get to do the shoveling and the salting and the grousing all over, again and again and again. The only good thing is this time around, I'm off today so I don't have to go to work and deal with all that madness.
February has officially become the snowiest month on record. Oh Bravo! Well done! You can stop with the overachieving now you silly be-yatch. But, nooooo. This menacing month will just not go quietly. Much like that crazy-ass Glenn Close character, Alex in Basic Instinct she refuses to be ignored. I just hope it doesn't leave any "surprises" like boiling bunnies for us to find.
Hey, wait a minute. I don't remember leaving that big pot on the stove...