snow days, revisited.

i love it when i fall asleep sorta late,
and load up the woodstove the instant before
i knock myself out for the night...
that means i'm not getting up out of a roasty-toasty bed at 4 a.m.
to prevent the preposterpous temperatures from plummeting
down around the see-your-breath range of indoor livin'.
we keep it as warm as the heat-leeching seeping of dropping digits
and severe stormy thermometers permit.
but when the hot box gets filled later in the darkness?
a. that's what she said;
b. i get to stay asleep until at least 6, instead.
and that is, in fact, the best part of a chill winter evening.
i can't imagine how cold and busted the ice season must've
been back in the stormswept savage gypsy snow times.
i mean it.
staying warm under dead animal skins?
busted.
not having a lick of insulation besides mud and logs?
c'mon, neighbors...that's flippin' sucky.
and what about the lack of hot water, and baths in general?
those jauns are the most gross..
i'm sayin',
vikings used to all cram into the great hall during the most
brutal winter freezes, and just hang out in there for days.
days!
that's a lot of poop and pee and body and mouth smells.
c'mon.
i may want to nestle up by the hearth with my peoples,
but i sure as sh!t make sure i shower first.
and paste-up and brush my equine-sized choppers, too.
no doo-doo butter is gonna get spread around here
while i have the wits to wash and wipe.
real talk.
still, my ninjas,
it's getting colder than the cast iron crucible can keep up with,
and that makes sweaters and blankets seem very valuable indeed.
thank goodness for the twin miracles of washing machines and toilet paper.
***********
it's friday.
again.
and it snowed like magic overnight.
voila!
went to bed late with clear skies overhead.
woke up at six to stoke the embers,
and there was the lightest dusting of frozen water
all up and over the place.
a fresh topcoat of perfect pearly white,
pasted on all the pines and perches
of the woodsly goodness.
by 9 a.m. there was half a foot of frosty fury,
and the wind started kicking up a fit.
the fray was afoot,
and freya was flinging thunderbolt blizzard blasts
directly at my face.
we're under seige by the cold.
good thing about all that hard-hearted blast furnace blazing
inside my chest an' that, huh?
lava in my veins,
and hot fire spit in my mouth.
a regular viking volcano, this one;
never quiet, never soft.....