Extremes, whether they be hatred, jealousy, greed, or revenge, make desperate people plotting a murder. So are weather extremes. California has been enduring extremes lately, and it makes me think of murder.
Couldn’t my killer fleeing for his life hit a patch of black ice and tip off the side of the road down a snowy mountain side? My hero, in his Crown Vic, takes a hard right and runs up the side of the mountain to stop himself. He flings open the car door and a chase through waist-deep snow ensues. I shiver just thinking of it.
Even if I could get my fingers around the poor weatherman’s throat, I know he’s not to blame. We learned in a recent Community Emergency Response Team (CERT) class, that our weather station is on the flats of the San Joaquin Valley. They shine their radar up at us, and it goes in a straight line, right over the top of the mountains in our area. As new Weatherspotters, we have to tell them what is happening under the beam of the radar.
I live in a village with so-so plowing equipment and a limited budget for snow removal. We have a commuters Facebook group, and it appears that many residents who need to get to work would kill the weatherman, and all the snowplow drivers who must wait until an inch of snow accumulates on the roads. Everyone wants his hundred feet of roadway ploughed first.
I haven’t been out of the village, and not even out of the house for five days. And I’m ready to kill. Now I know what REAL cold and winter mean, and some of you back in the Midwest scoff at a Californian complaining about the winter. I was born and raised in northern Ontario and we had REAL winter.
Yes but…we have had five years of drought in California. We got used to blue skies and hot sun. Weather was a real topic of conversation, not a social space filler. We got used to hillsides turning brown and orange. I look out my office window this morning and this is what I see.
Cabin fever is real. I just need a few more driving motivations, and the guarantee I’d get away with it, to start making a list.