Normal romantics would wax poetic about the wonderland that has been presented to us, or the fun to be had on the slopes. Uh no, that’s not me. I can’t think of anything worse than stuffing myself into a snow suit, driving up a hazardous mountain road, climbing onto a ski lift that whisks me up to a frigid mountaintop to discover that the only way back to safety is to hurl myself down a steep slope on two sticks strapped to my feet at a hundred miles an hour while praying that I don’t slam into an unsuspecting tree. Whew!
My natural response to this kind of weather is to scoff at the hideousness of snow, proclaiming my allergy to it and cursing the horrible roads, the ice, and worrying that My Man will be driving in the mess with other drivers who either aren’t careful or are drunk from hanging out at the ski lodge all day.
Snow is messy, cold and dangerous. No sir, snowy days are best observed from the comfort of a warm home, or a writer’s lair. Perhaps even from a luxury cruise liner off the Coast of Alaska. (Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.)
However, when you’ve got no where to be but in your own head, there’s nothing better than a snow day.
I love the coziness of a fireplace while watching the fluffy stuff drift gently to the ground. I’ve got my mug of warm liquid goodness next to me. Franklin (my Weenie Dog) is happily snoozing on the new doggie bed I purchased on sale from Amazon for my office. The space heater is adding that extra warmth, and the quiet of the snow outside is allowing the voices in my head to be heard inside, loud and clear.
Plus, there’s the added bonus of our wonderful neighbors and their snowblower (Bob doesn’t mind his snow suit and he loves that snowblower!) doing all the snow removal for me and the rest of our sweet cul-de-sac. *winks* Honestly, My Man and I have the world’s best neighbors. Every time we contemplate a For Sale sign we look at each other and ask, “If we go, how can we take them with us?” But that’s a topic for another post. LOL