. . . You know those days when you wake up to a mountain of snow in your yard, because – wind – , so you make coffee and you spend an hour and a half talking yourself up to a game of shoveling for an hour or more? Not minding the physical work really, but the wind is gonna cut hard this time causing the debate inside my head a heaviness. (Nebraska blizzards are the worst, yet I adore them.)

You put on a few layers of clothes, bemoaning how you look in a hat 😳, wishing you’d purchased taller boots for winter, and decide you are capable of doing anything so you march outside ready to take on the snow with your trusty shovel. The object that has seen you through six consecutive winters in Nebraska since the last one broke and never failed.

The two of you dance about the sidewalk and around the car, being mindful of the fact you accidently mule kicked your jeans off last night in the dark and broke your pinky toe on your dresser so it already feels crammed into thick socks and tight boots as it is… so go easy, Aud.

Never mind your nose is dripping, ears are frozen because your hat is too short and your hazel eyes are watering due to refusing the scarf, as it’s too bulky and makes ya sweat anyway, and life feels hard but you’re making it work so ya laugh to say, “Cheers on you life,” and finish strong. Taking time to laugh at yourself every time you toss the snow against the wind and it attacks right back. This girl will never learn.

Grateful to be done with round one as you stomp back inside, after shoveling a path in the grass, as well, so ya can get to the car parked out back, with wet gloves, snow on top of the worthless hat you knitted as a first knitted object ever and you wanna fit into it.

However you were born with a big head and curly hair so hats don’t look right, then ya kick off the shorty expensive snow boots you were just sure would be so cute with jeans when you’re out and about at Christmas time and the sense of regret settles in.

See, you’re kinda cussing them because they kept your feet warm – good – yet you can’t feel your wet frozen ankles – bad. Side eye yourself realizing nobody cares because you’re the only one here now, so ya stop talking.

Wander a bit around the house as your glasses de-fog and ponder where you put your furry slippers when you first started this project nearly four hours ago and suddenly realize . . .

You didn’t pour one cup of coffee from the coffee pot and now it’s cold. AND so are you.

I can’t decide how I feel about myself now.
Love my life.

. . . wandering away now towards the microwave cold cup in hand