My Pleasure
I always said I would never live far enough north that it required me to get up before the sun in order to scrape ice off my windshield. Coming from central Texas the thought of living in such a way always felt bizarre — and frankly unpalatable. As far as I was concerned, I would never allow my life to come to such a thing.
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Then, the world as we knew it got turned upside down. And that led my wife and I to migrate to eastern Colorado for the last three months. Far enough from the mountains that there’s nothing on the horizon except more horizon dotted with windmills jutting from the landscape like sticks a child has jabbed into their sandbox.
As a technical matter, I do not have to scrape ice off my windshield in the morning.
As a practical matter, I do. My wife is an emergency room nurse who leaves quite early, so it’s her windshield I’m scraping.
So, I guess, ultimately it’s half true — I don’t have to get up to scrape ice off my windshield. But it certainly is my pleasure.
