Winter hath returned!
Today, for those of you elsewhere than where I am, the East Coast was, or still is rather, ravaged by a “Nor’easter.” Again, for the benefit of those in sunnier places, a nor’easter is this: blizzard conditions accompanied by torrential rains, winds, floods, thunder and lightning and the occasional locusts. They usually begin on a Friday and end somewhere on Monday afternoon (for some reason).
Civilization as we know it halts for a weekend; some places up to a fortnight depending on the damage. All in all however, we shrug it off like a nomad would a dust devil.
The News hypes it of course; it’s their job. Reporters stomping around in roadside slush, dodging tractionless cars, interview all the fools who thought could get “out and back” before the gods sneeze on them. A supply to last a month is the usual cargo, as well as shovels and salt to combat the snow.
Now I can see buying salt from year to year. You use it, it’s gone; you store it, it melts. No biggie. What I can’t fathom is the snow shovel bit. It begs the question: What happened to the one bought last year?
It’s not like snow, let alone the white hell we’re in now, is rare. Who are all these people keeping the shovel industry in business? What’s the deal?
Do these people buy shovels, store them, and then forget where they put them? That’s one hell of a closet!
Maybe it’s customary to leave your shovel when you move? If that’s true, shouldn’t there be one waiting at the new place?
Are all of them new to the northeast? Can’t be that… the smart move from, not towards.
Have they all been in stasis since… forever?
I don’t know, but there they are, standing happily outside Home Depot with a shovel in their mitts and a microphone in their face.
I’ve been using the same shovel for years. I’m beginning to think this is some fashion faux pas. My shovel is so five years ago! I’m so embarrassed.
It’s just odd, that’s all I’m sayin’.
Around the Otter
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