The snow is beautiful, but for some reason this year I don’t seem to care. Not yet, anyway, and certainly not this Monday morning. Maybe fourteen years of digging out, hacking at icy windshields, and slopping through the mud and slush have done their job. Here in Taos, this attitude will get you zero sympathy or worse! I need to get a handle on this fast, before the Snow Police come knocking at my door.
It’s not that I’m cold, because I’m not. In fact, our little home is so much warmer with the wood stove than our old house in Maryland ever was in what passed for winter there. The adobe walls are thick and solid. There’s no such thing as drafts. So I don’t know where this mood or state of mind has come from, and I hope it goes away.
Winter isn’t even here yet, for pity’s sake, and I’m already whining! This will never do. No one will read my blog or buy my books. People will cross to the other side of the street when they see me coming. I’ll stop shaving and brushing my teeth. My wife will leave me. Even the junk mail will stop. And all because the Earth is tilted as it moves around the sun.