The Ice and the Good
by Will Bailey
Need a scrape? I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Also, I probably shouldn’t have been wearing this Freddy Krueger mask. It makes me way less approachable, or so my boss tells me in the form of two verbal, and one written, warnings. Yea, I’ll take it off. For now…. mwuahahaha! Seriously, though, it’s off. What were we talking about? Oh, yes! Ice scrapers! Is there anything more refreshing than starting your day with a nice steaming cup of Digging Your Car Out of a Glacier? There’s nothing like it. Especially when you are late to catch a train, and that sharp twinge of panic causes you to wield the ice scraper like a rescue dog digging through a snow drift to save an avalanche victim. My personal fav is when the doors on your car are frozen-shut. Oh, winter! You so silly! It’s as if Mother Nature feels she needs to remind us, from time to time, who wears the pants in this relationship. So when she says, “Scrape the ice off your car at seven in the morning,” we say, “How high?” And when she says, “What do you mean, ‘How high?’ That doesn’t make any sense,” we say, “Sorry, I was referencing an old expression.” And when she says, “Just start scraping, hot shot,” we say, “Yes, Mother Nature,” and then quietly mutter, “More like Smother Nature.” And when she says, “Excuse me?! What was that?!” we say, “Uh, nothing!” And when she says, “Okay, that’s it! No work for you! You go straight to your room, mister! March!” we say, “Fine. I didn’t want to go to work anyway!” Mother Nature isn’t worried, though. She knows that once we’re done sulking in our rooms, we’ll be back.