I am racing about my office barefoot, jeans rolled up to my knees, pretending to catch frogs in the soft waves of the carpeting.
My pants are soaked to the knee, and I am feeling the thrill of winter.
The streets are invisible under layers of snow and this morning was my first time...
...shovelling out my own car.
My shoulders are screaming with the ache of one too many sets with the free weights, my calves are shaking with dampness, my car swam halfway here on a foot of snow that hadn't melted from the streets yet.
It was telling me where it wanted to go, and we argued cheerfully.
I was playing banshee with my vocal chords the whole way.
Granted, I'm too chicken to go out for lunch, so we're ordering in, but I'm still feeling the thrill of an exciting morning.
It's beautiful out, and just like this morning when I had to wipe snow from the mounds in the street to figure out which one was my happy little rustbucket, my car is once again utterly lost among the hills and valleys of the parking lot.
I am in love with grandmother nature and her soft white embrace.
And my legs are still wet. ;)