Shovel it

Well, the snow didn't melt overnight and it's a lot colder out there this morning. Now I've got to go out and shovel it. Two more people tested positive at work last night, so it's likely most of the weekend will be spent at work covering vacancies. The urge to stay in bed is powerful, if one can describe something so devoid of power in such terms. 

Well, there wasn't as much snow out there as I'd expected but it still hurt to move it. How snow shoveling leaves you feeling is an interesting metric to look at year after year. Interesting.

Well, now it's dark again and about 13 degrees above zero. My youngest asked me if I wanted to go and see Westside Story, and since I'd been spared the out-of-shape post-middle-age shoveler's side effect of cardiac arrest, I said sure. We both liked the Spielberg version. And just like me at his age, he said it was the first musical he'd ever seen and liked. Maybe he'll check out more. 

Well, I found myself repeating some of the music in my head on the drive home. Say it loud and it's music playing. Say it soft and it's almost like praying. To love with such certainty. It's suicidal. Those crazy kids.