Winter…I See You.
The generic wall calendar in my office, which hangs from a tired, blemished, solo purple push pin, doubles as both my organizer and rolodex. It has rescued me from countless mental omissions.
Throughout the course of a work day, I probably lift my head to it with the same frequency a carnival High Striker operator does to the bell on a sunny day in August. Today however, I was let down by my trusty, vertical associate. Two weeks from the official start of Winter. Really wall calendar!
It’s no secret I hate frozen rain. If I had to liken snow to a sports franchise, it would be the New York Giants, or any team Meta World Peace has, or ever will play for again. Here comes another multi-month run of scraping ice from the station satellite dish atop a ladder I’m convinced was constructed by Jesus himself. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy sky-rocketing heating bills, skin chafing, and sliding down Dorsey Drive in my Sante Fe to the soothing sounds of crackling snow and wailing sirens.
Finally, bring on that feeling of wet socks to my skin, because I will once again choose to not spend more than $24.99 on a pair of cold weather boots. Really wall calendar! Really!