I'm such a child. I'm thrilling at the sight of delicious little flakes of snow sifting down from a thick gray sky. Old habits die hard. Up until I was 22-years-old, snow meant a break from the norm. A delay, or, best of all, and honest-to-God day off without penalties. Snow days equal spontenaity, which I don't get enough of these days.
I wonder when I'll cross the fulcrum and find myself on the "Dammit, snow is a pain in the arse" side of things. It could happen if I moved to Minnesota, like some people. But chillin' in Maryland, we only get this stuff a couple of times of year. And most of the time, it melts about 2 hours after it lays. So, I'll enjoy it while it's here.
I just wish that I'd worn a coat with sleeves instead of my black Marty McFly thingamajig.
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