Monday, February 26, 2007

A Day to Remember

Can we just agree on one thing today, dear readers? It was a really, really hard day to be snarky. And if you’re reading from anywhere in Vermont, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Because, if you bothered to step – or even look – outside today, you know that it was the kind of day that makes the snarkiest amongst us just kind of pretend that it’s our Halloween day and we put on broad smiles as “costumes.” Ha! Take that!

I’m just damn lucky I didn’t run into too many people who would expect me to snarl and snark because, quite frankly, it just wasn’t there. It was, for example, the kind of day that being offered a high-resolution photo of Peter Welch instead of a clear position statement really wouldn’t have bothered me.

Because today was the day when my nose came back to life. Yep, if you were out, you smelled it, too. That’s the smell of Vermont when it begins to thaw. The best smell in the world. Period.

Okay, okay, I’ve got another reason to be flying rather high this evening. When I arrived at my current job site this morning, the fine residents and their children and grandchildren were buzzing about the place, giddy as all hell, and yet scrambling to load two cars and a van with what seemed like every kind of winter mountain toy imaginable. Yep, they were heading to Sugarbush. And I was heading to the dining room for a day of trim calking, priming and painting.

So for one brief period this morning, as I watched the snowboards and skis getting hoisted on the vehicles, I was feeling that all-too-familiar snarkiness begin to well up inside of me. But I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought. Because before I could get my second helping of gear out of my truck, the about-to-be-wonderful man of the house had this to say to me: “Hey, we’ve got two extra passes to Sugarbush. You can have one and come along if you want.”

Well, all be damned, snarkiness be gone. And off I went, with nary a thought about the lost day of work and wages. Sorry, but you just don’t pass up offers like that on days like this.

So, to make a long story short, tonight I’m not giving two shits about Mayor Nutball of Barre, idiots on the radio, soft-spined legislators, ridiculous fellow bloggers, or anything else that might normally set me off in the direction of a snarky rant. Because I’ve got some newly sore muscles, the lingering smell of the crisp Vermont air, a combination sun and wind burn, and enough images of what amounted to pure bliss from zigzagging down a mountain for most of the day to – well – chase any snarkiness away. I mean, I can’t even find the foul-mouthed muster to complain about the $2.50 I paid for a small bottle of water. Breathe that thawing Vermont air, baby, and so much crap just doesn’t matter.

I hope you’ll understand. If not, too bad. I’d offer to give your money back but – as you know – you haven’t paid a penny since you started sucking from my word tit many months ago. Oops, did I just stumble on “an issue.” Nah. Not tonight.

I’ve got a feeling tomorrow will be a whole different ballgame, though. Because that’s the day I wake up and realize I missed a much-needed day of pay. But tonight it just doesn’t matter.

Cheers, dear readers. I’ve got a body to soak and an ice-cold Magic Hat to nurse.

Unbelievable day. Unbelievable.