Seriously, this happens a lot, you fight your way home on the snow covered freeways, wearily park your car safely in front of your house, go in for the night. the next day dawns bright and sunny yet cold. Go out to start your day and discover this. That is YOUR car buried under a mammoth snow drift thanks to Mother Nature with a helping hand from your friendly neighborhood snow plow driver. And you begin the arduous task of digging your car out. Lovely.
Of course there are pretty views of winter too. I love them as much as the next person...see?
But really, I'm done. I don't want to take any more vacation days because I can't safely drive the 17 miles to work in less than 2 hours (EACH way). I don't want to scrape and shovel my sidewalk and driveway for another two months. I can barely throw it high enough now to make it over the mounds. I love wearing my hand knits. I'm warm. I feel stylish. But my toes are screaming to be let free and escape their wool socks and snow boots. So I keep my eyes on the calendar. In one month, my girls and I will be scurry into the car at 5:30 am and happily sit in that car for 15+ hours. Because when we get out? We will again be in our second home, Texas. Ready for a week of fun. And Lord please let it be warm. Of course to us, that would be anything above 40 degrees. I'm crossing my fingers...my cold, numb fingers.