Go Ahead, Call Me Frosty the Scrooge

I used to love it when it snowed. In Utah, the snow was guaranteed to be soft, white, and fluffy. In Utah, it was awesome to go out and play in it. You can snowshoe or ski and could easily do those things, you know, because roads were plowed and you could get to places to do them. In Utah, people know how to drive and they have myriad snowplows working to get the roads cleared lickety split. In Utah, I ran in a gym--a warm, dry gym where I'd wear shorts, even in January. In Utah, residents know how to take care of their property and clear snow off driveways and sidewalks.

But here, none of that is true. The snow is not guaranteed to be soft, white, or fluffy. (Although, in fair disclosure, this season's snow has been. The one consolation.) There's nowhere near us to snowshoe or ski. In Maryland, people don't know how to drive (which I understand because whenever would they learn?!) and have three snowplows to clear the entire county. Since mid-January, I no longer belong to a gym, so I have to rely on my neighbors to clear the snow so Rhett and I can run. But alas, my neighbors don't know that BY LAW they must clear the walks within 24 or nasty neighbors could report them. (Just puttin' it out there that it could happen.)

So as much as it saddens me to say it, I don't like the snow. Of course I say this just as we got another small storm last night. Sigh.

In full disclosure: The one good thing about Maryland snow and my life is that I happen to be married to a school teacher. A school teacher who teaches in a school system where school is cancelled for threat of snow. Or for the three inches we got overnight. Snow days also give us scenes like these: