I stopped at home to eat lunch between jobs. I had the contract for plumbing in three new construction homes in a high-end subdivision and had to stop at the plumbing supply store afterward for another fitting I'd bought in the wrong size.
I looked out the back window, saw the piles and piles of snow that weren't going anywhere until April. The thermometer suction cupped to the window read thirteen. I thought about Miami and how it must be warm, warm enough to wear shorts and tank tops, bathing suits even. The sand must be hot under bare feet, the smell of sunscreen in the air. I sighed, knowing the only sunscreen I'd be wearing any time soon was on my face the next time I went skiing.
I had the sandwich fixings out on the counter and was squirting spicy mustard onto some wheat bread whe
