We don’t need no stinking ice scraper ... do we?

My son and I left the house Friday morning, took one look at the windshield covered with ice, and raced to get inside the car first so as not to be the one to deal with it.

We landed in our seats at the same time and locked eyes.

“I’m in no hurry,” I told Sawyer. He, on the other hand, had a 7:30 a.m. Differential Equations class.

He growled and got out of the car, taking a CD from the side pocket of the passenger side door with him. Because of course we don’t own an ice scraper. We live here.

I turned up the heat full blast, teeth chattering. It was 35 degrees. Was this payback for mocking our friends back East with screenshots of 70-degree weather forecasts and pictures of sunny hikes while they dealt with the polar vortex?

My friend Mi-Ai posted on Facebook that she had used a plastic cup as an ice scraper. “Who needed any of the 324,827,653 scrapers we had somewhere before we lived here?” she wrote.

Bruce suggested ice scrapers disappear to the same place as the socks that vanish from the dryer.

I don’t think I’ve ever owned one. So we use anything we can get our hands on. Spatula, anyone?

Laura used a credit card. Pat made do with the scraper from a pumpkin-carving kit. Brett used the crimped end of a tube of sunblock.

That is Arizona. I keep sunblock in my glove box. I’ll have to remember that, I thought as my son ran the edge of the CD case over the windshield.

It worked well. Sawyer tossed the CD to me as he got back in the car. The soundtrack to "Mamma Mia." I vowed to pick up an ice scraper.

But a few hours later, it was 67 and sunny and all thoughts of ice scrapers melted away.