❄️ Open the curtains, look outside and see a rectangular lump of snow where the car should be. Decide that even though other cars have attempted to get out of the cul-de-sac on a hill and I quite fancy a day off I don’t really want it to be because I’m dead.
❄️ Choose to risk a mega bollocking of doom by not wearing uniform. They want me in? I’m wearing a jumper. It’s happening. I’m a big girl, I can take it. I hope.
❄️ Get the wellies out from under the mountain of other shoes or at the back of the shed with the huge spiders. Those smelly, rubbery, heavy sods that are meant to keep you dry. With a handy strap to widen them to get your leg in. Lying bastards, I literally force my sausage legs into them and know it’ll be murder to get them off but I’ll have to worry about it later and walk along with half my calf muffin topping them. Sexy.
❄️ Take your life in your hands. Walk on the snow and risk slipping undaintily on your arse or walk on the road and risk getting squashed by a wayward bus or splattered by shit coloured gritty slush. Feel glad there’s not a soul around to hear your mutterings of “shit nearly slipped then” and “yeah, cheers then snow, sitting there looking pretty when really you’re hiding a huge pile of dog shit”
❄️ Realise that by driving to work you miss all the best scenery.
❄️ Realising you are one lazy, unfit bastard. Being unused to wearing wellies and trudging through snow I swear my thighs will be worthy of any Welsh rugby player by the end of the day. If I ever get there that is.
❄️Arrive at work and feel very deflated at the lack of fanfare or medal bearing Mayor to clap you through the door. My cheeks are bright red, my hair like Worzel’s and I’m a hot, sweaty mess (damn you HR enraging jumper) but I made it and I was on time.
❄️ Feel secretly glad that the boss hasn’t made it in as there’s a huge probability of a welly wanging their way past their gob. They won’t see the funny side. They won’t. That’s if you can get them off of course. It’s like they’ve moulded to you. They are at one with you. Polyvinyl pricks.
❄️ Feel smug that while everyone else is in for losing a days pay you’re still in the money. Yeah it’s all fun and games to turn over in bed send that “I’m not coming in bitches” email and go back to sleep. That is until you get your payslip and realise there’s no money for Quality Street induced comas for Christmas. More like multi pack Smart Price chocolate that tastes like old shoes.
❄️ Forget until home time that your car is not all snugged up in the carpark. You’ve got to get those bloody wellies back on and walk home again. This time it’s even more fun though ‘cos it’s dark. Or maybe catch a bus. Exciting.