By some sheer miracle, my neck of the woods was spared by Mother Nature this week even as she walloped places that do not usually see much snow, never mind enough to bury small trucks.
My friend Karen in Virginia, the original snow bunny thanks to years in New Hampshire where snow was invented, at first was psyched about it. However, this afternoon she finally admitted that her son is ready to go back to school and everybody is weary of shoveling. (Considering she lives 15 miles from the White House, I'm surprised she didn't tire of shoveling a long time ago. Although where I live, the politicos are masters of shoveling so I may have to take that statement right back.)
I'm not sure what I dislike most about traveling in snow -- digging out your car or the white knuckle rides as you maneuver your car along increasingly slippery roads. Don't even get me started about the idiots in their SUVs who drive like maniacs because they think they are immune to the icy roads -- I have seen too many of them in ditches or worse, upside down with the wheels still moving like japanese beetles that suddenly find themselves upended.
Not to mention the need to wear additional and bulky clothing, scarves, hats, mittens, earmuffs, snowboots and in some cases dark glasses because of the glare. And did I mention the "spare" shoes etc you lug around in your car just in case your original duds get soaked from either the snow or the shoveling? A lot of this stuff just ends up dissapearing into the vortex, turning up years later under the seat or a soiled mess by the side of the road.
And the ick factor. You say "Ick!" when a load of it hits you on the head or down the back of your coat or into your shoes. Okay. You don't really say "ick" you say something else similar but this is a family blog.
Snow. It's a four letter word. Ick.
Amen, and pass the mustard.