Getting ready for winter, and other &#$%-in stuff

Where I once had frost on the pumpkin I now have snow.

How is it that every year I grow older I grow more lax in preparedness for winter’s harsh reality.

In proof of this I render the following.

On Friday as the season’s first legit snowstorm approached I did the following.

a)   Bought a pair of winter boots. Last winter I had two perfectly good pair of snow boots. One pair was a hiking boot that worked fine in shallow snow depths. It had good tread and was waterproof. The other pair was one of those green galoshes types that are waterproof but have no insulation so you have to wear about nine pair of socks to keep your toes warm. Anyway, they both s*** the bed, both with holes or tears that let in the cold and wet. I’d had them both for about 10 years so they did OK by me, I’d say.

b)   Tacked up the back porch where I keep my motorcycle. Usually I affix three sheets of plywood to the outer edge of the porch to keep the snow off my bike through the long winter. I usually do it, however, in October on a balmy Saturday. This year, however, for some reason as mild temps in late November wooed me out on my beast several times I tarried a tad too much. Then earlier in the month, the hard cold arrived and I wasn’t too thrilled with pounding nails and driving screws in single digits, so I began searching the extended forecast for a day in the 40s when it would be at least semi-comfortable to do the work. Not gonna happen. With Saturday’s storm bearing down I had to do it on Friday. Which brings me to my next question. Why does it hurt more when you hit your finger with a hammer in the cold of December that in the heat of July?

c)   I bought a shovel. The ones I had were either broken or bent. I never thought I do this, but I bought one of those plastic ones, Surprisingly, it works pretty good in the fluffy stuff today, and it’s delightfully light.

d)  Checked the heating oil tank. I don’t even want to talk about that one.

One last thing to wile away the time on a snowbound Sunday while you’re waiting for the Pats to play Miami: Say what the f*** into you voice-activated smart phone. By golly, they clean it up, at least on mine: It comes out, what the f***.

Ain’t technology grand. Btw, I ignored the red line on my Word document and web template under “ain’t.” Why? Cuz I can.