IT'LL BE SPRING AT SOME POINT

Irony. It's what happens when you attend a special alcohol mixers tasting, bring home the spoils, realize that one of the two you bought is the wrong flavor because you didn't have your glasses on when you grabbed it off the shelf, then do not feel well enough to indulge.  It's the drinking equivalent to being all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Yup, today I'm feeling a little bit like a truck ran me over. It could be because I shoveled all that heavy snow yesterday.  It could be because I inhaled pounds of concrete dust cleaning one-third of the basement yesterday. The last possible option is much less enticing; I could be getting sick.

Not one to take a day off when I really need one, I push myself today to get stuff done.  I pamper myself for the morning with tea and a bagel and some pumpkin bread.  I take a shower to warm up the chills I have despite the mild temperature.  Then, I head outside. 

My intention is to run a couple of errands, get myself back to relax for the evening, maybe rest up and see if I can kick whatever ails me. After all, I have to get some prosecco or champagne to add to the mixers that I bought last night to correct my error of grabbing the wrong flavor.  This means a wine tasting, regardless of how pooey I feel, right?

In my world, though, nothing is ever easy.  Nothing.  Not a damn thing.

Everywhere I look is glistening white.  There's snow everywhere again, all over everything I already shoveled.  The trees, the fence, the car ... anyplace there was snow clinging adhesively yesterday, it has all fallen into my driveway today.  It falls in missiles, splatting loudly around me.  Snow slurps from the branches and whacks me in the back.  Jumping into my car, the falling hunks of wet snow echo like explosions, grenades of frozen crap bursting on the roof and the hood and the windshield.

I consider going back inside to grab the shovel.  If I don't get the snow up, it will freeze and make a huge mess overnight.  Still feeling the physical effects of yesterday's snow removal, though, and knowing the wine tasting has a schedule to keep, I leave all the white crap in the driveway and drive over it.  It'll be spring at some point.