A Seasonal Complaint

Spring symbolizes a fresh start and has capturing floral scenes that make people want to fall in love. Summer gives us in the landlocked states a chance to go to a non-landlocked state and hang out near large bodies of water. Fall brings the start of school and a feeling of content. Winter is an exceptional season. And by that, I mean that all of the seasons are wonderful EXCEPT for winter. What does winter have? The terribly cold temperatures, for one, are a not so redeeming feature. No one likes dressing up in three-plus layers to go anywhere because layers make one hot and uncomfortable. At least, that’s just me. The consequential weather that comes from these near-freezing temperatures is another seasonal turn-off. Blizzards and ice storms make for difficult travel so it’s not necessarily a good idea to go anywhere accept for the store to stock up on Swiss Miss cocoa and enough soup to start one’s own community food pantry.

One could make the argument that winter has such holidays as New Years and the not truly politically correct ChrismaHanuKwanzaka and that’s always something to look forward to. But the gift giving holidays are corrupt with commercialization and the feeling of “have to”s that plague various people (e.g. “I have to give such-and-such to so-and-so because he/she gave me this-and-this for insert-gift-giving-day-here”). The New Years argument can easily be countered by saying that the astrological New Year doesn’t begin until late March (with spring being the season of the New Year, which, in a semi-roundabout way, makes more sense). That aside, New Years pretty much gives one a reason to criticizes one’s self and make hard to keep resolutions so there’s something to strive for (or some cases, something to complain about) in the first few weeks of January. And then, there are the ever looked forward to snow days.

There’s a reason that kids look forward to snow days. Something about little to no responsibilities and promises of hot chocolate keep kids glued to television sets playing barely reliable news broadcasts as a list of school cancellations scroll across the bottom of the screen. And when they find out that they can either a) go back to sleep, b) start making hot chocolate, c) contact their friends, or d) do absolutely nothing. I usually end up doing the last one and complain throughout the day that I have nothing to do. Or I complain about the things that my brother doesn’t do (collect the trash, vacuum, clean up the massive cheese mess in the kitchen after his various nacho related experiments, etc).

I don’t like snow days for one reason: I never have anything to do. I imagine that there are a lot of the things that I could do (or should be doing), but I want nothing to do with them. I could do homework, but my homework is done the night before the snow day in case all hopes of six-inches worth of snow falls through or the city hauls tail to get the roads clean and clear before seven in the morning so I can’t do that. I could go to the mall or something but I don’t go anywhere because not only do I not need anything from anywhere, my car sits outside during the hours of 3:40 in the afternoon and 6:47 in the morning and it’s too much work to scrape ice and brush snow and wait for the ten minutes that it takes for my car engine to unthaw to go spend two or so hours in a store where I not only refuse to buy anything (either because of the lack of money or the ridiculously high prices of things that I’m pretty sure I will have no use for in about two months time) but I’ll also start thinking of all the other things that I could be doing (but won’t) and choose to leave.

At times, I feel like sledding. But seeing as how the not-as-new trashcans handed out by the city have lids that are unable to detached (and are square in shape) I’d have to try and find a sled. I’m sure that I had a sled at some point in my life. It wasn’t very big but it was very blue, with plastic yellow handles and plastic yellow ridges on the underside for, I would assume, traction (though various times it seemed to only be for decoration). It was also made of some type of recycled foam, which made it very aerodynamic and also made for constant wipe outs. I’m also sure that it eventually got recycled because it was, in-fact, a lame sled.

Then again, there are few hills which can be used for sledding in my subdivision, which is strange for it being called Persimmon Hills (we don’t have persimmons either, for that matter). There are hills but they’re mostly streets (except for the hill behind the school that will dump you into a forest or, if you angle just right, a bridge or stream) and by the time I actually plan to get outside (2:17 pm or so) the streets are slushy, dirty and filled with rocks (not to mention cars), so I stay inside, consume my Swiss Miss and Oreos, watch as my dog tramples happily through the snow in the backyard with the sound of some YouTube video that I’ve found playing in the background and complain about snow and the weather and the internet and current gas prices and my brothers and Justin Beiber. But mostly Justin Beiber.





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