And That's Just the Tip of the Iceberg

I know it's not an iceberg. It's a tree. But I haven't seen any icebergs yet since I started living in the Land of the Frost Giants.
This land of which the frost giants reside is better yet known as Canada. The story of how I ended up here is a long one, so I'll save it for a later date. Right now, I want to explain what it's like to live in the Land of the Frost Giants, going on 3 months.

As a species of frosty nature, the giants of the northern places tend to receive numerous amounts of falling white fluff in large quantities. This fluff is quite cold, and smothers my vehicle with many inches, in which I must equip a weapon frost giants call "a Snow Brush" to be-rid of such fluff cumbering my car of which I must use at specific times of the days.

(...Almost every morning, there's a lot of snow on my car and it takes me a long time to get it off when I'm trying to be places on time...)

Well, being as it may, I woke up at about six this morning to get ready for my school day starting at seven. As I traveled over sub-zero tundras and braved glaciers and frozen lakes as I stepped out of the comforting warmth of my own home, I had come to find a nice, consistent layer of snow hugging every inch of my car. But this was normal already, you see, and I was already be-ridding the fluff off my windshield when all of a sudden...I heard a voice.
I turned around, and emerging from the depths of the darkness came a big, intimidating man wearing a black ski-mask, holding a leaf blower and looking straight at me.

"What?" Is all I said, because I normally have no sense of urgency. And the leaf blower killed it.

"Do you need help with that?" He said kindly, "I can get that snow off for you if you'd like."

I stood still for a few long seconds and quickly contemplated my situation. I have snow on my car. I must get to school on time. I am holding a snow brush like an American holding a hockey stick, trying to brush snow off my car without getting it on my clothes so I don't freeze later when I warm up. And that the kind, scary-looking man could see my Texas License Plate.

"Can you do that for me?" I asked again, and of course he said yes. I stood back and watched him blow all the snow off my car in like fifty seconds, whereas my feeble attempt would have taken me fifty years.
I thanked him and trotted inside, and the first thought that came to mind was this: I just woke up 30 minutes ago, and my day has already been made.

Those tiny acts of kindness people do for others really helps me write a blog called The Fine Life. Because it really is a fine, fine life. You just gotta find it.