I had no time to look out the window as I was toiling away at work on Friday, but when I came out I discovered the heavens had opened up and covered my car in wet snow, a somewhat disturbing shade of brown. I don’t mean to imply it was dark chocolate, like an actual mud hole, but for that much fresh snow to drop from the sky in any variety of tan is a moment to pause and consider. Growing up in the frozen tundra that is Rexburg, Idaho, I’ve seen more than my share of snowfall, but I had never seen this, and it shocked me a little.

My windows were streaked with beige mud, which wasn’t a problem for the windshield or the back because they have built in washer fluid, but the side windows are not equally endowed, and I knew getting on the freeway in such a state could possibly end in a sideswipe or a pileup, or a number of other things that lean towards a rather bad day. Unfortunately, just about the only thing I do not have in my car is a package of wipes, so I hunted around until I found a used a face mask, and tried to clear the dirt sufficiently to get home. Sadly it seems that the very qualities the make disposable face masks so clever at repelling covid also make them rather unabsorbant, which means I just moved the dirt around until I’d created a nice Jackson Pollock painting, but was no closer to actually getting on the road. Finally, I resorted to pouring water down the glass to clear the worst of it. Thank heavens for 40-ounce Hydro Flasks.

Off I went, and 30 minutes later I stopped at a traffic light going downhill, sending a cascade of brown, muddy water pouring from my roof and down my windows. At this point I’m looking around at all the other cars, and noticed that while some cars suffered the same shame, many others did not, meaning the sky clearly had no sense of equality. After that I had no more minutes to worry about the state of my vehicle, and went on about my evening. When I finally arrived home for good later that night, I discovered my son, Porter, very subdued and eating our favorite Chinese ramen, which must have been difficult, what with his jaw dragging along the floor. I know that face.

“What’s up, Port?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I could could see he wanted space, so after a few spare words, I kissed him goodnight and went off to bed. He would talk to me when he was good and ready.