If last winter was a pacifier, it'd be in-side-out by now. That's how bad it sucked.
And I have to tell you. I'm not into it. At all.
Thinking about frigid temperatures, frostbitten fingers and cars un-starting makes me want to poop my pants if only to make my mom hold me. If you thought a firey hell was scary, try freezing it.
Last winter was an anomaly even by North Dakota standards. It was like Mother Nature overheard a "Yo Mama" joke and took it personally. Soon, she was pulling the winter equivalents of driving with a baby in the front seat, losing custody of her kids, shaving her head and dating a guy named Adnan Ghalib. And then she tried to convince me that Joe was the cutest Jonas Brother. Oh hell no.
Last year should be a one time deal, but no one guarantees it won't happen again. And I don't think I can handle another seven-month winter. Not without gaining another 12 pounds. But I shouldn't complain. I'll lose it again... if not from my waist than from all the fingers I freeze off.
You think I'm kidding? Let's recap:
* My vehicle needed a new battery last winter-- no less than 10 months since I'd replaced it the time before.
* I used emergency roadside assistance so many times, my car insurance dropped me.
* More than once, I hiked through a driveway chest-deep snow, just to get to my apartment.
* I spent an hour digging my car out of its snowy coffin at the Fargo airport. With a shovel I packed. In my suitcase.
So you can understand my child-like fear and why I sleep with the lights on and a thumb in my mouth. If the winter of 08/09 was Freddie Krueger, than 09/10 promises scary of "I Still Know What you Did Last Summer" proportions.
Don't let your kids read these blog posts anymore. I don't want to be responsible for their nightmares.
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