Cash Only

I wake up every day to the sound of a barking dog. Then I roll over and snuggle...until my alarm goes off. Stephanie gets up and shuts off the alarm (which is a phone) and snuggles. We listen to the dog bark and then after a few minutes I lunge over her and look at the clock, if the time is close enough I get up and put on snowboard pants and jacket and walk to the car. "I love you," I mumble. "OK, have a good day," whatever that means.

The steering wheel is always freezing cold ( I eventually bought gloves).

The windshield is usually frozen but rarely covered with snow, I start the car and put it in reverse (though I cannot see where I am backing to, I just know instinctively) then I use windshield washer to defrost the ice so I can see ahead of me. This works approximately half the time, the other half I just drive straight and follow my gut.

I sing loudly to songs on the radio, "I'm A Pyschiatrist!" Just to wake myself up.

By the time I'm on the freeway I can barely see because the car is so fogged up. I gun the engine to eighty for about 20 minutes and then I'm in the sleepy ski village that employs me. There are people walking their dogs in the twilight. They gaze at my car as it blasts reggae through it's cracks. I stop for coffee and sometimes a warm muffin. "Thank You," I say in a crabby voice. I am coldest by far to the lady who runs the coffee shop, like she cares about me and my immediate needs? They don't take credit cards.

I park in a car garage. And then I walk through the lodge that is filled with foreign employees who have already started their day. They are Mexicans who work the lifts, they look tired. They are the Jamaicans who work in the kitchen, they always return my hello. I go past the gondola and down a flight of frozen metal stairways and unlock my office door. I turn on all the electronic stuff and turn up the heat and wait for the day to unfold.

This happens everyday, even on the days it doesn't.