Determined to beat the trash truck (mobile refuse disposal unit) to the big road, I geared up at barely first light this morning...and got stopped dead in my tracks. There were five separate episodes of heavy hail yesterday, and most of it was still frozen on the ground. The truck doors were also frozen shut. I was finally able to pry open the passenger door and climb ever-so-gracefully over the console and into the driver's seat. The windshield was iced over and the wipers frozen to the glass. My anxiety level undoubtedly helped the defroster heat up as I sat there and waited...and waited, listening all the while for the beep-beep-beep that signals the arrival of the trash truck (MRDU). As soon as a porthole-size opening appeared in the frosted window, I ventured forth. Gray Rock Road had taken on all the aspects of a slip-and-slide and it was fortunate that I had bagged up all the trash in the barrel, as everything bounced out into the truck bed. So pleased that I got to the mailboxes ahead of the MRDU, I found I couldn't get out of the truck any easier than I had gotten in. Grace is not my middle name, and I was grateful that no one was around to see (and laugh). Mission accomplished.
It seems I whine a lot about the cold weather, but I'm just getting warmed up for summer (terrible play on words, that). At least in winter I can double up on pants and socks and put another log on the fire. When you get down to skin in the heat of summer, there's not much else one can do but sweat. That's when I really whine...no, it gets too hot to whine...it's more of a whimper, but I'm very good at it.