When I moved to California, I was all too happy to never see snow again. After living in the Northeast for my whole life, I was over it. Winter of 2002, particularly stands out in my mind, when I had to shovel out the wildebeast expedition that I owned after a blizzard dumped nearly two feet of snow on us.
But absence, heart, fonder, all of that happy bullshit, I started to actually to miss the snow. Having two seasons (which are: constant sunshine, or constant rain) gets old fast. The only thing I miss about that is the moderate temperature, which is nice when you have kids that have to be bundled and unbundled constantly. Other than that, I actually don’t mind the cold.
But you know, we moved back here so that our kid(s) could have proper seasons and in the last two years we’ve been here, we’ve had maybe 8-10 collective inches of snow. I’d like a nice big heaping dump of snow. I’d like mother nature to have soft white diahrrea on my front lawn. While everyone else has gotten hammered this year, we’ve gotten a dusting, here and there, always converted over to sleet and mostly rain. I’m getting kind of pissed about it. I know everyone else who is buried under snow, would gladly trade. I’ve been there. But for chrissake, this is the second year I’ve bought a full snow suit for the Mini and he’s never even suited up.
Barney Stinson would be ashamed.