Last night I got home from work about 11:30. Took the dogs out, feed all the animals. I watched an episode of Supernatural- an amazing one. Watched an episode of Ghost Whisperer- pretty good. Went to bed about 2:30, not from being tired but rather a lack of something better to do. At 6:10 a.m. I get a phone call. Megan. Why is she calling me? OH MY GOSH! Am I late for work? Did I read the schedule wrong again?
"Hello?" I ask tentatively.
"Hey, can do truck this morning? I'm sick." She really sounds aweful.
So I went to work this morning on very few hours of sleep. At first the lack of sleep made me kinda bouncy. I was on top of things this morning. Rushing around makeing coffee, baking cookies and scones, morning lattes. The truck shows up and Christina from book-side comes over to cover cafe so I can check everything, make sure the truck driver isn't cheating us out of something we paid for- it's been known to happen. I'm shoveling around heavy boxes of soup, sandwiches, cookies, cheesecakes. Using the box cutter to open them, organize them in the freezers. Going through the boxes and checking them off on the invoice. Hauling boxes of mocha powder around, liquid frap mix, grande cold cups...everytihing is good, I have energy from not getting enough sleep. Don't ask how, but I manage to be very active on lack of sleep. I also hefted large and heavy quantities of Jones soda and IBC around to stock the beverage case in the dinning room. Once most of truck is done and Christina is back to her regular job of selling books, and after I took out two large trash bins, flung open the insanely huge and difficult lid to the dumpster and dumped cafe wastes, my energy had evaporated. I was yawning, my back was very much hurting, and my coordination had dropped severely.
That's when it gets very busy. Non-stop customers. Everyone wanted white chocolate mochas, sandwiches, soup. Soup was popular today, sold it all within a half hour. Well, what would you expect? It's fifteen degrees outside and snowing.
Finally snow. I am ecstatic to see the soft, fluffy puffs coming down, even though it's not really sticking. Too dry out there for it to really stick. It's the kind that blows around on the road as you drive by at regular speed. Just little misty tornados of snow. But gorgeous. Even though I have to work tomorrow, I really hope it sticks. Lots of it. I want to wake up in the morning to a few inches, if not then a few feet. Five at least. I want to not see my green 2000 ford tauraus I named Sir Robin the Brave. That's how much snow I want. Blizzard. Call me crazy, but I love this kind of weather. Even if Sir Robin's heater doesn't work. I fixed the dang heater so many times, I can't keep track. Not once when the mechanics have said, "That should get you some heat," has there ever been heat. Once in a while, on a mild day, heat comes through the vents. More often then not, especially when it's 1 degree in the morning, it just throws out a cold breeze. So, fingers going numb from frost bite, my exhalations visible puffs of white, my lips going blue, I drove to work this morning, shivering in my thermal sweater, old, but trusty hoodie, stocking cap and hood, and gloves. Notice how gloves never work? I take them off many times on my drives to blow hot breath onto my poor fingers. Then, I drive one-handed so the other hand can get warmth by resting against my neck.
But I love it. Winter is my favorite, no matter that my heater in the car doesn't work. Or that the dogs take at least fifteen minutes to find a place to leave their special presents in the yard. It's beautiful...Or would be if we'd get some decent snow! It just ain't winter without the stuff.
Umm, my cat has his two front paws on the table and he's staring at me, apparently begging for food. About that time, I guess.
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