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Winter Can Go Fuck Itself

I hate winter.

I know, I know.  I live in Northern Wisconsin.  I'm from Minnesota and South Dakota.  I should be used to it by now.

I still loathe it. 

Yesterday it was -21 degrees Fahrenheit.  And I had to work. 


Saturday, it snowed a bunch.  I don't really mind snow all that much.  If it's 20 or above and snowing (with no wind), I'll go shovel my driveway for an hour and a half (which is how long it took to shovel my driveway on Sat) and I don't really care.  Snow shoveling is good exercise.  Snow is pretty.  I'm OK with that.

But, when it gets down past 20 degrees, I lose my shit.
(Oh the weather outside is frightful.  And the blowing wind is spiteful.  My car is stuck in the snow.  Winter blows, winter blows, winter blows.)

Every winter, I turn into Garfield.  Only instead of the constant refrain of "I hate Mondays", my constant refrain is, "I hate winter."

(I'm not a terrible fan of Mondays, either.)

So, Sunday I got up early in the morning to go to work.  My car started after the 3rd try, so I was doing pretty well.  I wore a tank top, shirt, flannel sweater, lined jeans, coveralls, coat, hat, boots, gloves, and scarf.  Overkill?  Not for fucking -21 degree weather it's not.  I was a big ball of nope.

(My "nope" face.)

The guard shack has a heater in it, so I turned it all the way up.  The funny thing about the guard shack is that it gets stupidly hot when the doors are closed, and then stupidly cold when you have to open the door to help a customer.  So the whole day was a vicious cycle- I would crank the heat up, get really hot and start to sweat, a customer would come, I'd open the door and all that sweat would freeze, I'd shut the door and remain cold for a few minutes, then the shack would heat up again.  I'd start working up a sweat, but the minute I'd decide to turn it down a little, a customer would come.

 (That's a nice thought but sweating won't actually help you stay in shape.  My point is, there's no upside to any of this.)

After sitting in the guard shack with the door sometimes closed and sometimes open (listening to Christmas music, because I have to listen to what they play in the store), I had to do a yard walk before I could go home.  A yard walk is just what it sounds like, I have to walk around the whole lumber yard.  Except I couldn't see anything, because my glasses were all fogged up.  And the thing about -20ish weather is that, as soon as anything comes in contact with the air, it freezes.  So I had a layer of ice on my glasses.  Plus my nostrils were frozen shut from trying to breathe.  It was not pleasant.

(Aren't I pitiful?)

I usually like my job.  But, I like nothing when it's that cold out.  Absolutely nothing.

It's the most horrible time of the year. 
With the kids all complaining and relatives saying "be of good cheer." 
It's the most horrible time of the year.

It's the crap- crappiest season of all. 
With those frozen stiff fingers and colds that all linger and all the cars stall. 
It's the crap- crappiest season of all.

There'll be snow plows in ditches, and turtleneck itches, and dogs that won't pee in the yard.
All the car doors are freezing, and kids are all sneezing, and icey security guards.

It's the most horrible time of the year.
With old ladies slipping and drivers all flipping you off as you steer.
It's the most horrible time,
The most deplorable time,
Oh the most horrible time of the year.





This post first appeared on Barbarian Mom, please read the originial post: here

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Winter Can Go Fuck Itself

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