When I got up yesterday morning it was 22 degrees
Fahrenheit and pitch black (okay, it was 2:30 in the morning and it had better
be dark). Before I even went outside, I was unhappy about the cold and dark day
surrounding me. I guess until I clean my glasses, I’m not able to see that in
my neighborhood we have pine trees not palm trees.
I had a sad heart and a red behind from feeling sorry for
myself for having to slog through the cold and the dark all the way over to the Planet
Fitness gym (James? We hardly know each other) where I got to see the news
footage of the Lake Effect snow pummeling Buffalo and the area. I thought I was
watching The Jack London Story, told in real-time.
My family and I had been in upstate New York, Niagara
Falls (go ahead and click it, I’ll wait), near the end of September.
The highways we had sped north on just seven weeks ago are
impossibly impassable, even if you have a dog sled (tucked in the
back of your all-wheel drive vehicle).
By the time I had done my hour on the treadmill (some
days offering diction lessons for Tourette’s patients is preferable) I had an old
Johnny Horton song stuck in my head, and my whiny mealy-mouthed
complaints about our weather stuck in my throat. It seemed to taste a lot like
crow.
-bill kenny
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