Lamentations Of A Winterpegger

Exiting the building later than usual her already foul mood was not improved by the state of the parking lot.


“Just great,” she muttered irritably looking up and being rewarded with a fat, wet snowflake right in the eye.  It stung and instantly caused her eye to water.


Stupid weather forecast!  It wasn’t supposed to snow until tomorrow. That’s why she had worn her new and unprotected shoes (she had planned to spray the leather protector on that night).  The consistency of this muck in the parking lot, a terrible mix of freezing rain and wet snow, would only have been welcome in a Slurpee.


In reality she should have brought ice skates.  They would have been more help in navigating this ridiculous parking lot than her newly ruined shoes were turning out to be.  More than once she only stopped herself going down by placing a steadying hand on a dirty car.  It was only now that she realized she’d forgotten her gloves at home that morning.

The sidewalk wasn’t quite the skating rink the parking lot had been however she now had to deal with huge, icy puddles and inconsiderate motorists.  They tore down the street seemingly oblivious to the fact that people actually used the sidewalk.  Twice she avoided being splashed, but only just.  The third time she was not so lucky.

A car, anxious to get from one red light to another, flew past her at lightning speed sending a tidal wave of sludge over the sidewalk and dousing her white, newly dry-cleaned jacket in dirty snow. Growling now, she shook her fist angrily, and uselessly at the long gone car.

Would this day never end?

Trying to brush the worst of the slush off she continued on her way only to find that the spree of bad events was to continue.

Still a block away she saw her bus turn the corner and drive away.

“Wait,” she called frantically making an attempt to run, but only succeeding in splashing down in a very large puddle which contained a particularly slippery pile of sleet at its bottom.  Trying to prevent herself falling she accomplished only one thing: dropping her bag into one of the Lake Superior-sized puddles.

There it was.  Her expensive Prada bag sunk an inch into near freezing water, dirty water to boot!  She grabbed it, feeling slightly maniacal now.  If one more thing happened . . .

Could this day be any worse?

Hair soaking wet, and dirty from that infernal car, with a wet and filthy jacket, clothes that were now all one standard grey colour, and a purse that would soon be either an iceberg or a waterfall, she finally made it to the bus stop.  Now all she had to do was wait here in near blizzard conditions for another half an hour.

Lamenting the fact she didn’t drive did nothing to improve her mood.

When the bus finally arrived she wasn’t surprised in the least to find that there was nowhere to sit.  So it was that she spent the entire bumpy and jostling journey dripping into a large puddle near the back door.  She had dried off enough to notice the cold wind and wet snow all the more during her trek from the bus stop to her house.

“Thank God its Friday,” she said an hour later as she leaned back in a warm bath, her sodden garments heaped in a corner.  Who cared what had happened earlier?  She had a warm bath and a glass of Pinot Grigio.  She didn’t need anything

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