There are three kinds of people in the word when it comes to snow--
Those who love it.
Those who hate it.
Those who expect it to do what all bad weather is supposed to do.
Get you out of work.
As a kid, nothing made me happier than seeing snow fall before I'd go to bed at night.
Alternatively, nothing made me angrier than to wake up the next day and find that it had only snowed an inch or two, and that I was still expected to go to school.
What good was snow then?
Who cared if a light dusting looked pretty on the trees? How was I supposed to enjoy it locked away in a classroom doing algebra?
I believe that snow is terrific--when it serves a purpose.
The past few years, it always seems to snow over the weekend.
This is not the snow I love. The snow I love shows up Sunday night, annihilates any plans of going back to work on Monday, and in some cases (when it really wants to go the distance) skates me clear into Wednesday--while I sit around in my pajamas and eat nothing but soup and oreos.
Yesterday, I woke up to find the same light dusting on the ground that infuriated me as a child.
I looked up at the sky--which was already beginning to go sunny-side up, and I muttered under my breath--
"Tease."
--then proceeded to wipe away the unproductive centimeters that had gathered upon my windshield.
Those who love it.
Those who hate it.
Those who expect it to do what all bad weather is supposed to do.
Get you out of work.
As a kid, nothing made me happier than seeing snow fall before I'd go to bed at night.
Alternatively, nothing made me angrier than to wake up the next day and find that it had only snowed an inch or two, and that I was still expected to go to school.
What good was snow then?
Who cared if a light dusting looked pretty on the trees? How was I supposed to enjoy it locked away in a classroom doing algebra?
I believe that snow is terrific--when it serves a purpose.
The past few years, it always seems to snow over the weekend.
This is not the snow I love. The snow I love shows up Sunday night, annihilates any plans of going back to work on Monday, and in some cases (when it really wants to go the distance) skates me clear into Wednesday--while I sit around in my pajamas and eat nothing but soup and oreos.
Yesterday, I woke up to find the same light dusting on the ground that infuriated me as a child.
I looked up at the sky--which was already beginning to go sunny-side up, and I muttered under my breath--
"Tease."
--then proceeded to wipe away the unproductive centimeters that had gathered upon my windshield.
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