Can of Worms

Sometimes when I imagined snow growing up, I had images like this in my head:























All romantic and lovely and beautiful...and warm (fake stage snow is not cold, no matter how realistic it looks).


These pictures are a more accurate depiction of my current snow sentiment.





















Imagined monologue with mother earth:

Hey, Ma! Can I call you Ma? No, oh sorry, no disrespect meant at all, I have just always felt like we were so close. Oh, you saw that, huh? Well, I meant to recycle that can. I just get really grossed out by old food and the spaghetti sauce smelled weird and I just threw it out. That hurt you? Like, physically? I'm sorry. I really am, I will do better. Bike to work? No, I don't. But, that's actually what I wanted to talk about. I would love to bike to work, its just, like, negative 10 outside. Oh, wow, you know all the exact temperatures. Okay, so I exaggerated a little. How cold is it? Zero. Right. So, about that. I really, really would love to bike to work but when its that cold, I just don't think its possible. I would lose fingers. It feels like you are losing fingers when I don't recycle my cans? I guess you have a point there. But, couldn't we compromise a little? I feel like I could bike to work if it were, say 40 degrees out and sunny. What can I give in exchange? That's how you operate, huh? I kind of imagined you a little more benevolent. No, no I am definitely not saying that I think you are rude, I just figured you would be a little more understanding of my predicament, I mean its pretty harsh out there. No, no, no you are most certainly not, uh, harsh. You are lovely. I really admire those twirly things in your hair. Vines, huh? Interesting. No, really, interesting in a good way. Crap. You aren't going to warm it up are you? Yeah, I thought so. Count the next blizzard as a special gift to me personally? Thanks, thanks a lot.