(no subject)

[laclucky]

As far as weather goes, August felt just like September. September was just like August. October was like November. November was like October. And now, suddenly and uncomfortably, December feels like January. Snow fell and then blew and now there are banks, 19-below wind-chills and ice. Or at least it looks like ice and my car rumbles like a box of tacks but starts with a purr (every day). I watched an accident on Franklin Avenue. A sedan, trying to turn, revved to get through the snow that inevitably piles between tire tracks and plow routes in intersections. The woman behind him was slow to follow or stuck and the truck behind her couldn't see that car's small self so don't you know she knocked her right back into the snowbank. I fear accidents. Mostly because my car is a dilapidated saint and I don't want to lose her, but also because I wouldn't know who to call. Probably my mom - my first instinct. But what could she do? She'd ask "are you ok?" And I'd say "yes mom, it was just a bump," or "no mom, my neck is broken." "Is the car driveable?" "yes mom, it was just a bump," or "no mom, my neck is broken." The lady in the truck calmly pointed down Franklin, motioning towards something beyond while the woman whose car was hit, made a phone call and looked in the direction indicated. Who did she call? Where or to what was the the other pointing?

My office is frigid. My hands so cold they feel arthritic. I sit on them but my body temperature has dropped. At home I sweat in my room. It's like a womb. I sleep with the covers off in a fitful sort of surrender. I hesitate to admit I like it. I close the door, seal the cracks and hope it bursts or floats off like a hot air balloon. On my way out the air hisses behind me like a steam boat.