Grumpy Old Winter

There’s no worse feeling than waking up late. The alarm clock stares at you like “haaaa you didn’t set me”. If it had the ability to point and laugh I swear it would. I’m supposed to be at work 30 minutes ago, not good. I roll out of bed and into the inferno I call a shower. It’s -27 outside and I am in no mood to be cold. Scrub a dub dub I jump out of the tub and into my usual work threads. I say bye to the dog and away I go.

I work overnight at a local Post office. It’s 10 PM when I leave. I open the front door And I’m met with a feeling I can only describe as pain and suffering. The frigid air touches me for the first time and I tense up. I twist the frozen lock so hard I bend my key, there’s no time to check it I’m freezing. A slow jog to my truck and I’m safe from the elements. Wrong. My truck is a complete icebox and the leather is colder than the cow it was taken from.

Why is old man winter such a grumpy old bastard?. Does he not know that my life has no time allocated to deal with -27 plus windchill?. He’s not chill at all.

I finally warm up the truck and begin my 20-minute trek to work. My windshield washer fluid light is on. I’m low on gas. It’s a perfect storm of events that is going to make me incredibly late. The good news is that gas is cheap at night so I don’t mind stopping as much. I pull in. Get out. Insert my credit card and wait…and wait. A minute in -27 is a lifetime. The machine beeps a bunch and I’m ready to pump. The minute I put my hand on the trigger my skin and the metal become one. The pain was instant and the F-bombs were flying for all to hear. I try and stuff my hands inside my coat and use it like a glove. The only thing that accomplishes is making my arms shorter. So here I am at midnight, pumping gas like a T. rex in -27 plus wind no chill.

I’m 31 years old and have lived in Canada my entire life. This is important to know because for some reason I don’t own a pair of gloves or a pair of boots. Nike tennis shoes are my footwear of choice to take on the true north. I deserve to be cold. I get it. 

I finally arrive at work 2 hours late. I decide I’m going to make up some time and jog inside. I could probably afford to work off some of the Big Mac I just ate as well. After 4 or 5 steps my tennis shoes betray me. My ass and hip meet the pavement and 2 things happened. Firstly, I farted. Secondly, I let out a sound I’ve never heard myself make. It was like an “ooooooooooouuuufffffffffaayyyyaaaa”. I check to see if anyone has seen this tragedy but of course, not….I’m 2 hours late. I pick myself up and limp Inside.

Although I appeared to be on the brink of survival when I did. I made it. I went 12 rounds with the grumpy old bastard and I survived (barely). Canadians deserve better Old man. A better, nicer and more forgiving version of you.

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