Today’s a snow day. Today is now several days ago, the day on which it snowed.

I had nostalgia on my way to work this morning about the glory that was. Snow days used to be marvelous, peaceful days ensconced in family, leisure and reflection. Sometimes also baking. Some of my favorite memories of my late grandma took place on snow days and involved much yeast, flour & kneading. I know now what an act of generosity it was for my mom to allow her kitchen to be hijacked by a woman who never really accepted her. I am glad she did. This is the sort of thing I should tell her. It will make her feel vindicated. “You know, like in the theory of retribution,” said my 21-year-old co-worker.

As I inched along the highway behind silly snow drivers bracing myself for the angst there’d be at my job where we are required to show up especially on snow days, I wondered why snow days, like so many other things, are soiled by the process of becoming a grown up.

I was thinking today (actually today, no snow) about what age I’d go back to if I could, and you know–know all the stuff I know now.

I think I would be 18 again. The world was fresh. I was unjaded and out of high school. I had enough money for everything I needed. I had an apartment, a car and good friends. Life couldn’t have been better.

Not that life now is bad, it’s just that I’m kind of annoyed by this whole grown-up thing. I totally dig being a mommy, but I could live without so many bills, or with two incomes. But I don’t really want any of the other liabilities of partnership. So basically what I’m saying is that I’m an un-satisfiable whiner. Yup. That’s me.

Oh yeah–and the walking definition of the self-indulgent.


Author: April Line Writing

Writing about whatever the f*ck I want.

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