I love shoveling snow from my sidewalk

This is what Thomas Pynchon and I have in common: our ancestors were Puritans who emigrated to North America during the Great Migration (1630s/1640s, fool!).  The intervening 340 years full of New England winters seem to have altered my inherited DNA in a way that’s only obvious once the winterlich stimulus has been removed.  That is, I love winter.  I love the cold, I love the snow, and I love the mayhem caused by the cold and snow.*  I crave it.  Having grown up in the South and currently living in the Mid-Atlantic, this makes me just a guy at the pet store looking for a “real” dog; the only options available to me have had their savagery bred out of them aeons ago.  All I’m left with now, as a way to exercise my instincts, is to pray for even the lightest of dustings so I can be out there in the middle of it all, shoveling and salting my sidewalk.  And my neighbor’s sidewalk.  And a path down to the corner of my block.  Wearing my thick-ass wool socks.  Long johns.  One of many toques with the puffball on top.  Just shoveling, daring nature to undo what I have just done.  You can’t, cause I just laid down the salt, you weak-ass bitch, Maryland Winter! 

* Of course, I love the mayhem caused by hurricanes, but that’s just displacement, the search for an alternative stimuli.


  1. Luigus

    You forgot to mention union suit in here, which I now imagine you love so much because it’s a sign of winter’s presence.

  2. dasfuller (Post author)

    Tomorrow we’re supposed to get about an inch of snow. Believe me, I’m going to be struttin’ around Bmore in that union suit, red sleeves poking out from underneath my t-shirt, poop flap buttoned or unbuttoned depending on my current pooping state. Oh yeah.


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