I am the type of person who belongs in a climate controlled dome. Not your traditional humid, rainforest-themed, tourist attraction biodome, but a comfortable bubble wherein the temperature ranges between 5 and 25 degrees celcius on any given day. Enough to mimic the change in seasons, but not so much that anyone has to shovel out their car, or sweat just by standing outdoors.
I am not a fan of extreme temperatures. I am not a fan of extreme anything, really – is it possible to be passionate about moderation? Because I kind of am. I want sunshine, but not extreme heat. I want a fluffy dusting of snow on Christmas Day, but only that day, and without all of the ice and wind. I want a burrito, but just a regular, non-extreme burrito. You know? Forget all of the excess that America tells we desire (#goals?) and take it down a notch, back to awesome. Yes, a tasteful amount of just about anything is what I’m after. (Except for caffeine. I will load up on that shiz until the day I die.)
Yesterday morning, it was cold in the GTA. I woke up, cursed the weather and the season and the fact I have to wake up unnaturally because society/my children make it so, and got out of bed. I showered and dressed and got my kids ready for school, which requires enough skill and patience to warrant some kind of award, probably, and eventually made it to my car.
Because I have a three year old son and a four year old daughter, my car is actually a sweet, functional minivan that is typically filled with abandoned socks, shoes, toys, food wrappers, school art projects, and coffee cups. It’s a thing of beauty, and I say that genuinely. Having a van is something you dread and then immediately love, in my experience. I CAN TAKE ON THE WORLD IN MY 9 YEAR OLD MINIVAN.
Anyway, it was cold and horrible and I quickly discovered that my van was frozen shut. As in, I could not pry the doors open for the life of me. And so, while my children ran around the frigid driveway, I spent a stupid amount of time trying to get into my car so I could take my kids to their schools, grab a coffee, and rush back home in time to take a conference call and edit a few documents before school pick up #1. My life is SUPER glamorous, I know.
With some effort, I managed to get the drivers side door open, and was able to turn on the car and blast some heat. Shortly after that, I was able to pry one of the side doors open, loading my kids into their car seats by essentially tossing the smaller one over the bigger one and then stretching my arms well past a healthy distance in order to buckle the smaller one in while he screamed, because I wasn’t using the right door. And because he’s three. ‘This is SO DUMB,’ I muttered, causing my four year old’s eyes to widen. ‘MOM! Don’t use bad words.’ Wait, she really just called me out for saying ‘dumb’? Because the words IN MY HEAD were a lot worse.
All of this time, there was a beeping noise. A loud, obnoxious, unexplained beeping that I’d never heard before, piercing my already stressed-out, pre-coffee brain with an insistence that almost drowned out the sounds of my cold, angry children. WHAT THE EFF WAS THE BEEPING? I didn’t know, but nothing stopped it. Logic told me that it had something to do with the van, probably the doors, but honestly, wtf do I know about my van? Prior to The Great Suburban Move of 2013, I lived in the city and walked everywhere. Cars are still foreign to me, like the Star Wars movies, and peeing alone. This whole day was destined to be a fail.
Then magically, I found the right button, and the beeping stopped. The doors went to manual mode, and allowed themselves to be heaved open. My kids got to school (late), my conference call was a success, and my coffee tasted like the holy water that it was.
Why does this matter? Because biodomes, clearly. I am not made for winter (or mornings, realistically). It is not a wonderland. The moment that New Year’s Day ends and regular winter begins, it is a hellish season of punishment that we can’t possibly ALL deserve. And it goes on forever. And ever. Endlessly. But then it DOES end! And then it’s perfect, suddenly, like an gentle, placid angel of neutrality. Until it’s too hot, and we all die, like the dinosaurs.