Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Winter Blunderland
Ah, snow days... when you were a kid and didn't mind getting up at 5:30 to watch the news in hopes the Powers That Be would announce NO SCHOOL. Alas, now it's all about rising at 5:30 to shovel out from this heavy wet blanket in order to get to your oh-so important job that your boss thinks is really worth risking life and limb. Ok, maybe if I was a surgeon or an electrician... but to get to work in order to stamp shop drawings? C'mon already. Do I HAVE to be an adult today? Can't I be childlike and have a snow day?
Right. Well. Now that the whining is out of the way... my biggest pet peeve in this kind of weather are the frikkin' idiots out there who refuse to brush snow off their cars. Hey, doood, there's about six inches of frozen precipitation sittin' on your bonnet and I can't see your headlights. Likewise, can't see the tail lights either. Not that it matters, really, since if I'm behind you, chances are you're driving the speed limit or faster anyway. On a road that hasn't been plowed yet. In the country. I'll just give you a cheery wave when I pass you ten minutes later after you've hurtled your precious auto in the ditch. Give you a hand? Here, let me call a tow truck for you once I'm safely stopped and my car is in PARK. I'm sorry your cell phone flew out the window on impact while you were yakkin' to cousin Jeb and smoking a cigarette. Thank goodness you can ask for a new one for Christmas. While you're at it, why don't you pray that the Powers That Be gift you with a modicum of common sense.
Now excuse me while I go brush more snow off my car and dream that I'm eight years old and it's a snow day.
Who dat snappin' back? |
Right. Well. Now that the whining is out of the way... my biggest pet peeve in this kind of weather are the frikkin' idiots out there who refuse to brush snow off their cars. Hey, doood, there's about six inches of frozen precipitation sittin' on your bonnet and I can't see your headlights. Likewise, can't see the tail lights either. Not that it matters, really, since if I'm behind you, chances are you're driving the speed limit or faster anyway. On a road that hasn't been plowed yet. In the country. I'll just give you a cheery wave when I pass you ten minutes later after you've hurtled your precious auto in the ditch. Give you a hand? Here, let me call a tow truck for you once I'm safely stopped and my car is in PARK. I'm sorry your cell phone flew out the window on impact while you were yakkin' to cousin Jeb and smoking a cigarette. Thank goodness you can ask for a new one for Christmas. While you're at it, why don't you pray that the Powers That Be gift you with a modicum of common sense.
Now excuse me while I go brush more snow off my car and dream that I'm eight years old and it's a snow day.
