One of those sneaky and scrupulous adult secrets, purposely hidden from children, is that unfettered, relaxed snow days no longer exist. When snow trickled down and formed a thick film on the earth when we were younger, endangering school bus drivers and clumsy pedestrians, we stayed in our pajamas for much of the morning, slurping down sickly sweet hot chocolate from ceramic mugs. Then we slathered our sated bodies in layers of down and wool, and we romped and rolled down icy hills on our sleds until our fingers and noses were raw with all the delightful exertion. Today, a dusting of snow mostly means I should wear my snow boots to the office, unless I want to slip and potentially plummet to an untimely death on the treacherous foot bridge from the parking lot to my office building. Normally, I wear skirts on days like this, despite the cold, cold air; today, I wore pants, which, although slightly warmer, means stuffing them into my boots and getting them wrinkled. It also means spending about ten minutes cleaning my car off, while futilely trying to remain dry and presentable, before I can leave. Staying at home during inclement weather is an option, but the expectation is that we work, productively; constant connectivity through a variety of devices ensures this. Finding a proper excuse for missing that client teleconference or not crafting a response to their query is difficult, and could place us in professional jeopardy.
Laptop, cell phone, streams of incessant email firing on multiple devices mean that escaping the drudgery of the office is impossible. Languidly enjoying a day off, a boon from the natural climate forces, means detaching from our digital limbs, shutting them or at least turning them to silent and hiding them under a pillow. Just once this winter, I would like to decompress in the cold, amidst the snow, perhaps glide carelessly along some frozen ice, just skate on by swiftly and assuredly like I did as a small girl.
(image taken from BibliOdyssey)