Back in Nebraska

Being a geek, I spent most of the morning playing on Google Maps.  I was trying to find the closest point to me where I could stand at the intersection of three states.  The Missouri River is thwarting the easiest option: Sioux City.  North Sioux City is in South Dakota, Sioux City is in Iowa, and South Sioux City is in Nebraska.  Stupid river.

It looks like I’m about a three-hour drive away from the closest “standable” point which would be the South Dakota/Minnesota/Iowa border east of Sioux Falls. The point where the states meet appears to be at the intersection of — get this — 488th Avenue and 268th Street.  I guess the government just said “fuck it” and gave up naming the streets after a while.

Wanderlust?  What wanderlust?

I hate winter.

I really, really hate it.

After four and a half years in Phoenix, being back in Nebraska over the summer was a treat.  I could walk outside whenever I want, there were fireflies, and nobody has to dash straight from their car into their offices to avoid being outside and melting due to the heat.

Quickly, the summer turned to fall and the leaves on the trees were a forgotten delight.  It was fun seeing kids all bundled up for Halloween and it was almost quaint the way I had to actually turn on my gas heater.  Heater!  Because sometimes the house isn’t warm enough! Ha ha! Oh, Arizona, you are a distant memory.

And now, it’s the dead of winter and I’m ill-equipped to deal with the ridiculous snow.  I bought sweaters (three!) and scarves (four!) and gloves (three pairs!) and a cute hat that matches my winter coat (purchased in February in Scottsdale for like $30!) and forgot that (oh yeah!) I’d need boots, too.  Winter boots.  For the stupid snow.

So here we are, two days after a blizzard in the beginning of December, and I’m already sick of winter.  I’m sick of scraping ice off my windshield. I’m sick of using the defroster.  I’m sick of fogging up my lenses when I wear glasses.  I’m sick of stiff-leggedly padding across parking lots looking like a newborn fawn attempting to walk.

At this moment, in this instance: I’m sick of living here.