Snowzilla 2016
I love being housebound for days. Playing every game in the house with children who alternate manically between whining and laughing is dreamy. I adore shoveling one pile into another pile right next to the original one like some sort of deranged Sisyphean loon. There are never too many puzzles to complete, and your hips will not fix forever into seated position as you try to conquer your collection.
I can't think of anything I'd rather do than run out of lemons, milk, kindling and sanity -- all before 3 p.m. when it is entirely too early to imbibe, all stores are closed and your car is snowed in anyway, so who cares -- and what would he/she do about it anyway?! #amiright!
It is tremendous to watch your lovingly tended plants be crushed under banks of white death. It feels good to be on live-text with your girlfriends as they implode. It is even more fun to pay for both school and after-school activities and then watch your kids enjoy 10 percent of all that. My sides are aching I'm laughing so hard. Beyond question, this is prime living.
Truly, winter is idyllic. Especially in cities that, each year, appear to experience winter as if they've just discovered something new and potentially dangerous.
- "Can I touch it?"
- "How do I do this thing called snow?"
- "What is driving and functioning in temperatures of 20 degrees? Is life possible?"
Clearly I am being sarcastic. Well, except for the lemons. I despise being without lemons because really, it's like the sun might as well have burned out.
Being snowed in is like a detox of sorts.
The first 48 hours are miserable. I mean, you NEED a fix. It's horrid. And then you accept that you can't make hot chocolate because, listen, there is no more milk. And if your kids go across the street to their snow fort and you cease checking on them because you're enraptured with your New Orleans puzzle? Well, they're fine.
You start to realize just how great all that senseless shoveling is for your physique, and so you double-time it out there. Because you can. Plus, your cat fancies himself a snow leopard and traverses with spy-like glee the extensive pathways you've dug out for his wimpy canine friend's bathroom needs. And you've eaten chili for three days straight and could use some alone time in the fresh, open air, if you get my drift.
That chicken in the freezer? Girl, it was time to roast that bird anyway. Get busy. It's #notchili. And if you are also supposed to be packing? Get a garbage can and watch out world, because you am gonna tear through this joint like it's your job. Nothing is safe.
Soon enough, you're gonna find some more lemons and with them the sun, and those goddamn white banks out there are gonna melt. And it's back to school, back to everything. Onward ho!
-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.