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2004-01-31 @ 4:38 p.m.
haiku this you freakin' leprechaun

So I was just trying to think of something positive to say about snow. My yard is buried. My car is buried. It's about to overtake my front porch which is at least 36" high.

What is good about snow? Hmm. So I decided to sit and ponder this most intriguing premise.

What is good about snow?

This was harder than I thought. Had to have some soup...for strength. Then played with the pussy. Then alphabetized my canned vegetables. Then read "War and Peace"...maybe get some pointers on long drawn out things. And then write some kickin' haiku like...

delicate flakes abound

fall not on me

but Dick Cheney or a tree.

Ok, I don't quite have the cadence down for a good haiku, nor even anything vaguely related to poetry.

My grandmother was a published poet. Besides her poetry, she used to take songs of the day (in the late 1940's), and rewrite the lyrics with new humorous ones. (Gee, I wondered where I got that from -- the need to be silly in print). She suffered from depression too, but still found joy in writing. Unfortunately, I never met her because she died of breast cancer about 4 years before I was born. Damn. My soulmate and I never got to meet her.

Anyways...what were we talking about? Oh snow. So, in an effort to get a little more in the spirit, I decided rather than just watch it from the window, why not go out in it. I hadn't shoveled yet today, and I'm on the verge of being snowed in and not being discovered until the spring thaw, so I went outside.

Did I mention I've never gotten dressed today? Too lazy. Too tired. Too grumpy. So I still had on my big red robe with the Scottie dogs on it. I know Victoria Secret model Heidi Klum is sitting, right this minute, down in her multimillion dollar New York apartment overlooking Central Park wishing...JUST WISHING she had one of these Scottie dog bathrobes, but its mine bitch, so back off.

So I went out and shoveled in my robe, snowboots and coat. I was a fashion plate, ya hear, just a freakin' fashion plate. I was thinking about that haiku thing too. What rhymes with snow and fuck. Oh that's right, haiku doesn't have to rhyme, it just has to have a contemplative feel to it. Ok.

Even with all the blowing razor sharp ice crystals pelting my bare legs, I managed to look up and notice that the overhang on my front porch, which looks to be merely aluminum held up by 2 spindly legs, was really heavy with snow. Maybe I should try knocking some snow off the roof of the porch.

"Now Luuuuuucy...."

(In case you're wondering, this is a totally pointless media reference which has Ricky Ricardo noticing that his red-headed wife is about to do something REALLY stupid).

So I go up to the edge of the porch and start poking the snow with my broken snow shovel. Poke. Poke. A few pieces fall off. Poke. Poke. A clump falls off the edge. I look over at the medical building that is right next door to my house. God I hope nobody is watching this.


Well, we now, have a large 50 foot chunk of snow off the porch roof and my front steps have been totally obliterated under 2 tons of new snow.

Fruck. "I Love Lucy" sponsored by Clonopin.

Oh, so what was the good part of having three feet of snow on the ground? I don't have to look at my landlord's damn hand painted demented cement leprechaun lawn ornaments. They are buried under tons of snow.

And yet, even with that said, I am somehow vaguely aware that they are still there, still planning for the coming summer months, when they can leer at me whenever I pull into the driveway or walk into the side yard. Is it a good trade-off? Snow vs. leprechauns?


Who wants a bunch of demented leprechauns staring at them?

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty