Sandy Supposes....

Icy Improv

PROMPT November 26th

Today is Thanksgiving here in the United States. I know this is the prompt for tomorrow, but I'm going to give you something to be thankful for. The prompt for tonight is to be yourself. Write whatever is on your mind. Provide your own prompt, so-to-speak. I look forward to reading your posts!

         

         

         

         Someone, somewhere not too distant has been singing, "let it snow." I hope they're happy, ecstatic, delirious with their fresh, white powder. I picture that deluded individual rolling in the snow and heaving armfuls into the air as the flakes cascade onto their upturned face. Their cheeks are flushed and rosy. A grin of delight is frozen upon their visage. They flutter lashes sparkling and wet. I suspect they've already created a snowman and named it. A few innocents have probably been pummeled by icy snowballs. Most likely they were warmly attired, specifically choosing to pull on mittens.

         Yep, the first significant accumulation has blown into town. It's not as if winter hadn't planned to arrive. It blasts its way into my life every year about this time. It is nothing if not predictable.

         I'd prepared for this imminent arrival. My trusty vehicle is outfitted with snow tires, its oil changed, and a few snow brushes / ice scrapers are tucked into the hatch. A pair of boots have been tripping me near the front door. I mended a winter-weight jacket with an annoying tear of the liner in a sleeve and laundered another one. All this and I forgot something, an important something.

         Today, I lumbered down the nineteen steps that lead to street level balancing a bulging laundry hamper on one hip. Before my descent, I'd pulled on those waiting boots and shrugged into the repaired jacket. Of course, I'd been aware of the swirling whiteout clearly visible from an upstairs window. I anticipated digging out my car and defrosting it. I knew from experience that this requires time and muscle.

         I yanked open a door reluctant to do so due to a heavy layer of ice. I wrestled a snow brush out from the hatch and began sweeping a blanket of snow from my vehicle. I had to return to the hatch for a brush with an ice scraper. I succeeded in transferring most of the snow from my car to my coat. I did all of this without mittens.

          Yep, I'd forgotten to swath my poor bare hands in a protective, warm barrier. Stubborn, not relishing a climb back up the stairs and thinking I was already committed, I carried on. I may well have come close to frostbite.

         As a direct result of my carelessness, I've remembered in vivid, painful detail the incredible pain snow inflicts upon exposed skin. This is a repressed memory from my childhood. I replicated that unfortunate sensation today.

         My red, raw , frozen fingers turned numb until I attempted to warm them in the car. Oh, there is nothing like that stabbing, throbbing, pins-and-needles which signals a return of circulation.

         Lesson learned? Do not venture forth without hand wear. Tomorrow I will stash several pairs of mitts in my chariot. Maybe I should throw in a scarf and a chapeau, too.