- For one shining moment, Dairy Castle on national TV (3/21/22)2
- ‘Shear Madness’ fun first before Beef & Boards gets ‘kinky’ (1/9/22)
- COVID confinement getting expensive (3/11/21)
- Hammerin’ Hank joins sad Hall of Fame parade (1/22/21)1
- Election night newsroom traditions like no other (11/4/20)
- No clue about going to bat to restore sanity (8/25/20)5
- Divided limb from limb (6/1/20)
Too much like winter ...
OK, so it's not even officially winter yet, and already I'm over it.
The first day of our annual winter indignation doesn't technically arrive until next Wednesday (Dec. 21), yet here we are already talking single digits and windchills and school delays.
It's our first dash of winter, and believe me, I'm scrambling.
But how could it be winter already? I still have things to do.
Never got my yard mowed one last time. Never got my leaves raked up (sorry if they've blown into your yard). Never got those weeds pulled from the ornamental garden the previous owner left me.
Never got the garage cleaned out so I could get both cars and a Dixie Chopper in there. Never put the gas grill away for the season. Was going to paint that back door ... really, I was.
But here we are, up to our elbows in early signs we are not going to like the rest of 2016 or the start of 2017 very much.
Ugh. Time to shift into winter mode.
Where are those winter gloves? Could I just wear two old baseball mitts instead? I can find those.
Been wearing my new good black shoes, but now I need the old ones again to slog around in the ice and snow. Where are they? Not in the bathroom. Not under the table. Not in the pantry. Did the dog eat them or what?
Got a heavier leather jacket here somewhere too. Had it when I moved last December. And hey, it's time for substance over style. That olive green Calvin Klein jacket can rest again until spring, just like the Spyder convertible in the garage.
The latter means all my paraphernalia must be trundled over to the Jeep from the Spyder. That calls for shifting over reporters' notebooks, extra pens, cameras and camera bags, an umbrella, my supplemental Splenda packets and a fistful of fast-food lunch coupons.
Too much work. Too much like winter.
And where's that windshield brush? The old kitchen broom will just have to suffice.
Ice scraper? Haven't needed it yet, but I'm sure when I do it'll be nowhere to be seen, of course, and I'll have to substitute a Tupperware lid or something.
So bah, humbug. It's already the Indiana winter of my discontent.
Warmer coat, older shoes, bigger car ... all necessary changes and more in one lousy frigid morning.
So ... tell me again why we all live in Indiana ...
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