It is needful for me to leap up and do all the things this morning, for reasons that I can’t exactly remember. Matt needs the car or something. All the food needs to be cooked, or maybe it’s that all the house needs to be cleaned. There’s no way to be exactly sure with this gray sky pressing down to obliterate all the happiness a person can muster.
No Wait! Not all the happiness! We didn’t get snow here! Would you believe it. I watched some sort of satellite video twelve or a hundred times and there we were, in this little, practically imperceptible pocket of green in a sea of incredible white. The way the storm moved over the country was so extraordinary. The way it completely by-passed this sliver of Binghamton is even more fantastical. It’s like God loves me more than the entire world, certainly more than anyone else who lives here and is angry about there not being snow–pretty much everyone.
I can’t fathom it! Imagine being angry about there not being snow. That’s the true dividing point for me and all of western American humanity. I don’t get it. I don’t understand why anyone would want this stuff, or enjoy it, or want more of it to fall from the sky. When the Europeans came and began pushing Native Americans around, my first question is, why were there any Native Americans to push? Why weren’t they all living already in Mexico? And then, once the Europeans arrived, why didn’t they also quickly pack up and get out? South people, The South is warm (well, not right now) and you don’t have to shuffle along through great piles of black, gray, and brown ice, feeling the doom of the universe pressing down on your very shoulders.
Anyway, God heard my cry and not only is there no snow, the week’s going to be pretty warm so I can maybe even take a walk up the hill or something. There are even birds singing, ridiculously. It’s a winter miracle.
And now I will arise and go forth and do some stuff. Enjoy your snow, ya’ll!
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