You guys, I’m trying. I really am. But with every year that passes, I can’t help it.
The scowl is nearly permanent now. The frump is noticeable. I have turned into a cranky old man. I am not quite to “get off my lawn” level, although if someone was on my lawn, I’d probably tell them to leave. But I have reached some peak crank this week.
Let’s first talk about snow. It sucks. I hate snow. I hate driving in it. I hate shoveling it. I hate trying to walk on it and then when you just get the hang of it, the earth gives way and you fall on your ass. Snow is the absolute worst.
I hate that everything takes longer when it snows. It takes longer to get to work. It takes longer to warm up once you get inside. It takes longer to get dressed to go outside. It takes longer to get anywhere because you have to brush snow off your car and sit inside what seems like a freezer when you’re trying to start your car. You can’t even start your car, then go back inside for 20 minutes like you used to because of thieves and the ozone layer.
And why am I even going to work? We have millions of dollars of technology and I should be able to be working from my house. Or the beach. Or my beach house.
Why am I even trudging down the pothole-filled I-635 when I could be working in my jammies drinking hot cider? It apparently is too dangerous for my kid to go five minutes to school. Hell, do they just cancel school when one snowflake falls? North Kansas City was out Monday AND Tuesday. Why? How? I had to drive to work both days.
I know. I hear myself sounding more and more like Clint Eastwood every second. Except none of this is making my day.
I keep coming back to one simple complaint. Where is my flying car that the Jetsons promised me? All of this crankiness goes away when I can lift my flying car off of my roof, fly over the potholes on my five minute commute to work after dropping my kid off in his delivery pod.
Instead, I get brushing snow, snapped windshield wipers, and a popped tire after hitting a pothole. (All of these things have happened to me in the past 72 hours.) My kid gets to sleep in, and I’m in an office.
I will say that I’m much less cranky when it’s summer, or spring, or fall. At least you can walk outside without putting 19 layers on and drive around potholes you can see instead of black ice.
But for now, I’ll simply frump the face, furrow the brow, frown the scowl. None of this will be better until my car can fly, or the calendar turns to April.
(Get cranky with Chris Kringle Kamler on Twitter, where he is known as @TheFakeNed. Or get warm following Chris Kamler on Facebook, Snapchat and Instagram, or watch some of his old Rambling Moron videos on YouTube)
