The Winter Tax: A Confession from Highway 40

 There is a specific kind of silence that only exists in a Montreal winter at 6:00 AM. It’s heavy, cold, and—most importantly—pitch black. Coming from Mexico, I still find myself waiting for the light to give me permission to start my day. In my hometown, the sun is a constant, reliable companion that wakes you up with warmth. Here, in January, that permission doesn't come until well after I’ve already finished my first cup of coffee and started the first shift of my morning.

After fifteen years in this city, you would think I’d be used to it. But the "Winter Tax" is real, and it’s not just about the heating bill. It’s the emotional toll of living in a world that feels frozen for five months of the year. If you follow my journey on the C&C Blog, you know I love a good system. I talk about audits, productivity, and staying organized. But today, I want to be honest: I don’t always follow my own rules. This isn't a post about how to "do it all." This is a confession from a mom who is just trying to find her way through the dark.

The 15-Minute Delivery vs. The System I Ignored

I have a freezer full of home-cooked meals. I spent hours prepping them, labelling them, and stacking them neatly so I would never be "that mom" who relies on delivery. I had visions of being the woman who always has a healthy, balanced meal ready to thaw. But this month, the reality of my life hit me like a snowdrift. With my husband away and the weight of a huge life transition on my shoulders, those frozen containers stayed in the freezer.

Living downtown Montreal is a blessing and a curse. Within a three-block radius, there are a dozen places that can deliver a hot meal in 15 minutes. This month, I’ve found myself making the call from the car while I’m driving home, timed perfectly to the minute. I’ve spent $200 on take-out and dining out this month, and every time I do, I tell myself I should be using what I already have.

But here is the "Economics of Sanity" confession: those 15 minutes are my lifeline. When I am solo parenting, every second counts. Calling for food while I’m stuck in traffic means that when I walk through the door, I don’t have to spend 45 minutes standing over a stove. Instead, I have a little more time to breathe, to finish a lingering work email, or just to sit in a quiet house before the school day ends and the evening rush begins. The take-out arrives just as my daughter walks through the door, and for a moment, the chaos settles. I am paying for time, not just food.
This is the part no spreadsheet prepares you for: sometimes the smartest financial decision is the one that keeps you standing.

Two Hours of Slush: Finding Peace on the 40

Then there is the "Traffic Tax." I spend $40 a week on gas, and I hate every cent of it. Not just because of the price at the pump, but because it represents two hours of my life that I am "losing" to the asphalt every single day. If you’ve driven Highway 40 in the winter, you know the feeling. It’s gray, it’s slushy, and it feels like a personal test of your patience.

Driving both ways on the worst highway in the city is a character study in frustration. Most days, my "productive" brain tells me I should be doing more, but in that car, I just try to survive. I’ve learned to turn my car into a sanctuary. I listen to the news to stay connected, my favorite true crime podcasts to keep my brain engaged, and Easy Italian podcasts.

Why Italian? Because in the middle of a Montreal snowstorm, the sound of a beautiful, warm language feels like a mental vacation. It’s my way of escaping the "Grocery Math" and the stress of the day. Some days I’m not actually "learning"—I’m just staring at the taillights in front of me and hoping for a glimpse of sun, using the voices in my speakers to keep the winter gloom at bay.

The $70 Investment in a Smile

This month, I looked at the budget and saw $70 gone for two movie outings for my daughter and her friends. When you’re spending $200 a week on groceries, and half of those groceries are sitting unused in the freezer, $70 for popcorn and a movie feels like a lot. But she’s been feeling the winter, too.

With Dad away, the house can feel a little lonely. When her best friend’s mom texted to ask if she could go, I didn't care about the spreadsheets or the "ideal" budget. I cared about her spirit. Seeing her come home with a smile that actually reached her eyes and hearing her laugh about a movie scene made that $200 grocery bill feel like a secondary problem. Happiness isn't a luxury in a Montreal winter; it’s a survival requirement. We aren't just buying tickets; we are buying a break from the monotony of the cold.

The 30-Minute Sanctuary: My Nightly Restart

My only real "rule" that I’ve managed to keep is my 30 minutes of quiet learning at night. Once I put my daughter to bed, the house finally feels like mine again. The silence of a sleeping house is the only time I have to focus on the woman I am becoming.

Except for my Monday nights at Concordia, I spend that half-hour on Alison. I don’t do it because I’m trying to be "superwoman." I do it because if I don’t spend 30 minutes being "Fabi the Professional," I’ll spend the whole night feeling like "Fabi the Tired Mom." It’s my way of proving to myself that I’m still here, under the layers of winter coats and grocery receipts. It’s my "Restart" button, 20 minutes at a time.

The Lesson in the Mess

To the Mamas out there who feel like they are failing their own systems: I am right there with you. I am the woman who writes about systems and then orders pizza because the day was too long.

• I am freezing meals and then letting them sit because I need 15 minutes of quiet more than I need a home-cooked stew.

• I am sitting in traffic on the 40 and feeling the "Winter Tax" in my very bones.

• I am spending money on movies when I should probably be saving every cent for my upcoming transition.

But I’m also here, fifteen years into this Montreal life, still finding ways to laugh and still finding ways to grow. We don’t have to be perfect to be successful. We just have to be honest with ourselves. The light will come back eventually, but until then, the coffee is hot, the freezer is full (even if we don't eat it), and we are doing just fine.

Love,

Fabi

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Transparency Note: I believe in transparency in business and life. This post contains affiliate links for Alison, where I’m currently taking my courses, and Wealthsimple, where I manage the finances for my future business. Using these links supports my journey as I transition to full-time entrepreneurship. Link in bio for the full list of tools I use.

Start Your Own "Micro-Learning" Journey:

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