Wednesday, June 29, 2005

I miss the snow.

Because there is something altogether charming about having to wear a ski-jacket, over a sweater, over a turtleneck before going outside. There is something profoundly endearing about wearing two pairs of socks and earmuffs over your toque, all the while being entirely thankful you remembered it was going to go down an extra ten degrees today and brought a scarf. And everybody dressed the same way, freezing in the same way, despite being covered in so many layers.

It's quiet in winter, because talking wastes calories needed to keep warm. People keep their heads down as they walk, hugging themselves, and no one minds being bumped into as much as they would have were it summer.

Because summer is, by far, the most uncivilized of seasons. Crime rates go up because air conditioners break, people collapse in the street. Every one's in a bad mood, nothing feels cozy any more. Being outside is about as enjoyable as a cooked noodle is crunchy. It's like some hideously rude person is breathing down your neck the whole while it takes you to dash between air-conditioned establishments.

And there's nothing to freaking do. God damn it! During the winter, being inside is just nice. Looking outside, everything is snow-covered and pretty and freezing and you're inside, not snow-covered, maybe kind of a little bit pretty, and not freezing. But in the summer? You look outside and think, "Fuck, no way in hell am I going out there." There's nothing artistic about it. It's just, "If I have to see one more housefly, I am going to scream and ship myself to Antarctica. Which brings me to another thing...the bugs.

I hate bugs and all other creepy crawlies, whatever they might be technically, based on their number of legs. There are a few exceptions to this rule, yes: butterflies, moths, ladybugs, spiders, crickets, bees and dragonflies. But bugs in general just suck. They're hideous, rude, blood-sucking, itch-causing, disgusting little creatures that I would gladly never lay eyes upon for the rest of my life. And, so, after years of being plagued by the little bastards, Something Wonderful has happened:

Electric. Fly-swatter.

My cousin's husband brought the thing over when he came to pick her up a few days ago. At first glance, it looked like some kind of kiddy tennis-racket, and I thought little of it. I mean, hey, the guy's got two kids: him having some toys lying around isn't inconceivable.

What it turned out to be was much more like him than anything else I could have thought of. My dad came inside, pointed to it--I was on the phone--and mouthed, "Don't touch the metal on this." I gave him a weird look, so he said, out loud this time, "It's an electric fly-swatter. The current runs through these metal wires and explodes bugs when you hit them with it."

Godel: o_o Friend on phone: Did I just hear something about exploding bugs?

I hadn't actually gotten around to swatting anything with the little gem 'til just a few minutes ago, so I was half surprised, half delighted, when the mosquito let off blue sparks for a split second, then fell, motionless, to the ground. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I can't wait to find some more bugs.

I'm a bad person.

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