So, despite what the meteorologists and astronomers and pessimists tell you, I am ready to proclaim that spring is here. In fact, I am proclaiming as such. It is here and the sun is getting higher and the sky is a sort of different feeling blue, and things are melting and Spring is here. Except that is, where I need to go it seems.
See, here is the deal, Company. I walk to work, and everywhere that I have to walk seems to be either a.) in the shade, b.) a north-facing slope, c.) under something or d.) in some sort of impenetrable valley where the sun can't touch. So even though things are melting everywhere I was still stuck this morning slogging through three to six heavy, wet inches of snow on the ground, oh and a fine layer of super slippery ice on every paved surface, and a few that aren't.
The stairs are my favorite part. Because they face north and no one seems to bother shoveling them and they are concrete and not asphalt or grass, they seem to be especially resistant to the heat and high angle of the sun this time of year. So I find myself hauling myself up the steps by the railing with my arms as if I was a paraplegic mountain climber wearing ice skates. It was not pleasant and I am sure the people going by on the highway were getting a good laugh. Coming home it wasn't much better, and I went down them on my size fourteen dress shows like I was going to slalom in some sort of ski race or something.
I am not even going to talk about all the mud that is somehow lying below and around the snow and ice. I am half thinking about taking a shovel with me tomorrow morning on my rounds just to make things passable. But I won't. I will just let the sun and rain that is supposedly coming do it for me. I mean, that's the American way, isn't it? Besides, I don't want to push spring too far ahead.