The irony of melting snow

Actually, this was supposed to be a very different post, but the original eloquence has eluded me; hence you get this poor paltry approximation.

Have you ever had the brilliant flashes of insight when just waking up, in the shower, or when driving?  Not just the great ideas of how to do something – those usually work sooner or later.  No, I mean the ideas, concepts, or writing you come up with that seems so profound and appropriate that you just can’t wait to write it down.

But of course, you’re just waking up, or are in the car, so you can’t write it down just now.  (You can tell where this is going, right?)  So you resolve that as soon as you sit down at your computer you’re going to blog it, and say something really witty on the internet, and get a slice of your 15 seconds of fame.  But of course, you don’t.

By the time you finish your shower, or get to work, you’ve mostly forgotten about the idea.  Then you have to do expense reports, or answer questions, or something mundane, which leads to some other productive work, which leads to lunchtime.  Ah-ha!  There was something else to do – I thought of a great idea.  But then the harsh light of day – and the cafeteria – makes your profound thoughts, which you just barely remember, seem so mundane.  And so you forget about it, except in that creative bag in the back of your mind that nags about missed opportunities.

Anyway: I was going to blog about this one last pointless snowstorm the Boston area got last weekend.  Pointless, because while it dumped 8 inches, and made commuting that Friday afternoon very messy, it promptly rained that same night and turned the beautiful powdery whiteness into an icy mess.  What’s the point of snow if you can’t enjoy it?  The icy covering has a certain glitter in the day, but that’s about it – much worse for snowballs, snowpeople, and sledding than a good covering of powder.

The double irony – not of spring snow, most of which never lasts anyway – is that this one last blast ruined our chances of setting a record.  The last least snowy winter as measured in Boston was in the 1930’s!  But our 8 inches more than doubled the amount for this winter, pushing it firmly into the boring category.  Ah, well.

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