It's January 13th, and still we are snow-less.
Oh, sure, we had some snow that caused us to push the shovel along the driveway to get to our cars without having to actually put on boots, but it was pretty much melted by the end of the day, as if it had never snowed at all. Twice this week it snowed lightly on the way to work, and both times the snow was totally gone by the afternoon, never once sticking to the road for longer than an hour.
Meanwhile, my snowshoes are hanging in the basement, waiting for somewhere to go.
I know what will happen; I know how this will end.
I am planning a trip on a plane in a few weeks. I haven't bought the tickets yet, but I will very soon. I am going to give myself one day lead time, which means an extra day of hotel and car rental, just in case a major storm moves in. This way I'll either beat the storm, or, with any luck at all, give myself enough hours to book another flight and still make it to my destination.
Yup, I am giving myself the lead time because (since I am cursing the lack of snow here) I am quite certain that a major blizzard will affect my one and only major travel plans this season. It's my luck and it's my destiny as I sit here cursing the icy wind outside that is so very cold it ices the nose and ears the moment I step outside. "Snot freezing weather," we always called it as kids (and still call it now) because even the runniest of noses freezes solid when it's zero or below either by temperature or by wind chill (or, even worse, both).
So, if in a few weeks we get the world's worst blizzard that lasts for days and days and days and grounds all air traffic for hundreds of miles and as many hours, YOU MAY ALL BLAME ME. Yes, you certainly may, because:
I WANT SNOW, AND I WANT IT RIGHT NOW.
Honestly, it's January and it's New England and the ground is brown and boring. Bring it, Ma Nature. I'm waiting and waiting and waiting, but my patience truly is running thin.
