I was born into a family who was born and raised in Minnesota, so naturally, I too was born and raised in Minnesota. Neither of my parents had any reason to move to another state – both careers and family were firmly rooted here. I’ve somehow survived thirty three brutally frigid winters in this fly-over state. Growing up, I can recall shoveling and scraping a 3×25 yard driveway at least once, sometimes five times a week during the longest of our seasons. During an especially precipitous winter, it would behoove one to shovel the excess snow from the roof, so as to prevent one’s roof and eighty gallons of snow from intruding on the interior of one’s house and thus ruining a perfectly good day. Hanging up/taking down the outdoor Christmas lights when it’s 10 below [that’s ten degrees below zero, for those who aren’t familiar, you’re welcome] isn’t exactly on the top of the list of reasons why I should enjoy getting out of bed in the morning, either. When the Governor issues a statement warning the rugged citizens of this cold, cruel state to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary, for exposed flesh could freeze within fifteen seconds [I assure you my friend, that means the moisture in your skin could go from a liquid to a solid state in the time it takes to say “I hear Thailand is beautiful this time of year”.], I tend to stop asking why I still live here, but vow [usually punctuated with more obscenities than necessary] to make this the LAST winter I live here.
My point being, with the economy tanking [or tanked], and there being as much time in the day as there is money in my bank [usually zero for both], when every day seems like such a chaotic challenge, the sub-zero temperature and the ungodly amounts of snow seem to just be the lemon juice on the paper cut. Why do we continually voluntarily live here?
Pack your bags, T-Bone, I hear Phuket is beautiful this time of year.