I am not a fan of snow. Never have been, if the truth be known.
Which means that the first real snowfall of the season is always met with a sense of dread and despair that's akin to a case of scorching diarrhea. Or perhaps a punch in the face.
And today was the day.
Because my office is in a cave, I didn't know about it until a considerable amount of the white stuff had already fallen. The sky had been fairly clear and sunny when I left for work this morning, so I don't even know where it came from...
So now I'm booking flights to Seattle for my final two trips of the year, as the idea of driving over the mountain passes in this crap makes me want to stick my head in a microwave... which is undoubtedly less painful.
Guess I should find some gloves. I must own twenty pair, but they never seem to present themselves until winter is over. It's as if they don't like the snow either, and go into hiding.
Can't say that I blame them.
If I could, I'd be hiding right now myself.
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I dread the snow each and every year. I have to keep my bitching down to a low volume, so I don’t have to hear people constantly retort the line “but you live in a place where it snows”