Snow, Schadenfreude and the final solution.....

Waking up to find a perfect blanket of snow outside my house did not get my day off to the most agreeable of starts. I swore repeatedly using many biblical curses and quite a few words that would make a Roddy Doyle character blush. I wasn't best pleased. I hate snow and all the slip-sliding and shuffling along like you have a fantastic case of chefs arse that comes with it. I am a firm believer that snow belongs only on a Christmas card or in films and only then if it is CGI'd.

dogs, cuter and more useful than snow...
couldn't you just lick him?
I want to lick him...
I wont, obviously

When I say it was a perfect blanket of snow I mean it probably had been sometime earlier. As I hadn't shifted my hairy backed bulk from my bed until a smidgen after ten the pavement was now snowy and slushy and wet and just not very pleasant at all. I stood at the window bemoaning my luck, I had plans that involved going outside and cycling, these plans were now scuppered.

As I stood there peeking out from behind the curtain at the cadaverously hued landscape below I noticed a large man stuffing himself manfully into a tiny European "car". Seriously I have seen better and more reliable looking motorcars painted by 4 year olds. This had the look of a Mr Bean sketch about it so despite being literally ball froze I stood and watched. As predicted/hoped the big man in the tiny car got precisely nowhere. The car's wheels just spun and spun and spun in pointless and silly circles. The big man got out, he looked around the car and then kicked a tyre in that frustrating way that only car owners know how to do. He appeared so infuriated by his car's inability to move that he probably would have kicked an old man in the kneecap if one had been passing. There was no old man passing, thankfully or should that be disappointingly? Not that I advocate kicking old men in the kneecaps.

He needed a push to get moving and as there was no one on the street to help and I don't push cars as a rule, it's a good rule and one I stick to with religious fervor, he was stuffed. He kicked the car again, zipped up his, frankly inappropriate considering the conditions, sports style jacket and headed off into the frosty morning to wherever he was going. This small moment of Schadenfreude lifted my drooping spirits no end and I found myself moments later whistling my way to the shower. Which was nice.

I did eventually make my way outside but not before I had more layers on than a cake shop full of layered chocolate cakes. Over the top? Probably but I take no chances in the snow. Firstly to the sandwich shop for a sandwich, obviously. But the normally businesslike sandwich maker person was all a flutter and not quite adept with the lettuce as normal. And the cause of this messiness and frankly less than perfect sandwich crafting? That's right the snow. Sake.

It was bothering her and it was all she could talk about. She spent most of time peering out the window and barely glanced at my lunch. This is why I ended up with a cheese, ham and chicken sandwich instead of the cheese and ham I had so eloquently and precisely asked for. It was the same when I ventured out for coffee some time later. It was all people could talk about, the snow and how the bloody city had come to a standstill because of it. Snow, it's the ruination of a good sandwich and the bane of my winter.

The only thing duller than talking about the weather is talking about people who talk about the weather (and then blogging about it). Which is what happened when The Cousin came home form work. The quality of conversation in this house is quite dreadful at the best of times, but this was a new low for us. But even at our most lucid and articulate the best The Cousin and I can muster at each other are a few indeterminable grunts and quite a lot of cross room grumbling. Given that we have four computers in the house we spend a lot time in isolation from each other communicating via email or Facebook but mainly by notes on the fridge. We need a go between, a conduit between the rooms.

So we are getting a dog. Obviously. It's the obvious solution. A Jack Russell, all being well. I may not sleep til it gets here. I may not sleep after that either.

Crikey.....

All advice gratefully accepted. Regarding the dog that is, there is nothing that can be done about the snow......or The Cousin.