The Perfect Storm

In my old age, I've become a bit crotchety in my attitude towards snow. When it happens in Maryland, people rush the grocery stores (got your bread, milk, toilet paper everyone?), drivers have mini heart attacks, and homeowners in my neighborhood rarely shovel sidewalks (making running difficult for days or weeks after a storm). And since we don't have a mudroom or a garage, the mess gets tracked in the house immediately. Plus, we don't ski and the snow is heavy and just not pretty. Because of all of this, I prefer it stay far, far away from us.

However, this storm (named the "snowquester"---why oh why do they insist on giving snow storms ridiculous names?) and its timing caused a change of heart in me. It occurred mid-week before only a six-mile Saturday long run, which means little to minimal impact on my weekend long run. It got Chuck out of work on Wednesday, a day I'm home and can enjoy him. It was predicted far in advance, meaning I thought to bring home my laptop so I could work from home on Thursday if allowed. It came in March when it won't stay cold for too long, meaning it will all melt quickly. It came the day after I finished a book and had checked out a new one from the library, and on a day when we had a new Netflix just waiting for us. And because we knew about it, Chuck brought in enough wood for our last fire of the season (which turned out to be a hot one--I could enjoy the basement with NO socks). Well done, storm. Well done.

I should mention that this picture shows the snow level at its peak. That's right. This amount of snow got Chuck and me out of a day of work (yes, yes, some places got lots more). But for us a mere inch...if you round up.


And when it turned to rain in the afternoon, we resorted to indoor sledding.