I've been huddled by the fireplace the last few days watching non-stop snow come down. As I've watched the snow engulf the neighborhood I started to wonder about crankiness about snow. It's so pretty! The kids are so happy playing in! It's been so relaxing, and the icicles forming are spectacular. This this evening I had to run a few errands: post office, library, Dollartree, Sam's Club, pharmacy, Little Ceasars (because I wasn't going to be cooking after all that!). I remember what's holding me back from an unbridled love of snow. It's only three letters long: i-c-e. Hate it. Just as the sun was headed down late this afternoon there was a break in the clouds. The sun reflecting off the mountains was dazzling. And melted *just* enough to lay down a solid layer of ice EVERYWHERE. I have a particular paranoia of ice, and after my ankle break a few years ago it got worse. Then with this fibromyalgia junk it's even worse. HATE IT. A LOT. I cannot shovel the drive, so it is pretty well buried. I was able to pull out okay this evening (deep enough that I left lined pressed in by the undercarriage) but when it came time to pull back in I almost didn't make it. Therefore: I will not be leaving home again until things are properly drably brown. Or at least the sidewalks and roads are dry. Feel free to visit if you miss me. Call ahead if you expect me to not be wearing footie pajamas, regardless of the time of day. via Facebook
No comments:
Post a Comment