In college, I, like everyone else I knew, had a slob roommate.
Well, to be precise, I had three slob roommates, which was like being the only sober person in a bar on St. Patrick’s Day. Any effort to maintain cleanliness was futile.
Near the end of our third year, my slob roommate moved out before me. I wouldn’t see him again for four months. I packed up my room and did a quick sweep of the apartment to make sure we’d gotten everything ready for the new tenants. When I stepped into my slob roommate’s room, I realized we were far from ready.
My slob roommate had left behind a messy reminder. Clothes and books were strewn across the floor. A dirty desk leaned on the wall. It was a disaster zone. My other roommates refused to help, so I had to clean up the room by myself.
Winter is a lot like that roommate: It leaves behind nasty reminders of its handiwork.
This past weekend I decided to trek up to Good Spirit Lake for the first time of the season. I enjoyed my visits to the small body of water last year, so a return trip seemed appropriate.
Since it was early May, the lake was practically deserted. Most people prefer their beaches in June, so I was basically alone on the sand. It was quite tranquil.
As I walked the dunes, I saw a bird walking on water. Not floating; walking. I stopped. I leaned forward. I squinted my eyes.
The bird wasn’t walking on water; it was walking on ice.
Half of Good Spirit Lake was covered in ice. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. The temperature was in the double-digits and there was ice right in front of me. I was flabbergasted.
It was weird ice, not a connected whole, but a series of chunks. I broke off a piece. It looked like pure glass. Standing in the sand with a shard of ice was surreal to say the least.
I spent most of my day grabbing chunks of ice and smashing them against each other. They shattered with a satisfying “crunch” sound. It was a simple pleasure.
After all, someone has to do their part to wipe out the last remnants of this winter. I’d prefer to erase his reminders before he returns in five months.
