The View from Here

I used to hate snow. I associated it with cold, difficult driving, and dirty streets. Now, more and more, I kind of like it. I enjoy the insulated feeling of being inside a warm house while everything outside is mounded with fresh white snow. Like today:




Except that today, after spending twenty minutes digging my car out of more than a foot of wet snow (with a burning throat--the harbinger of a cold--and neighbors watching from across the street with shovels in their hands) and surfing out of my not-yet-plowed neighborhood to the main road--all before eight a.m.--I'm in no mood to wax romantic about the snow. I was so angry at the district manager who didn't deem it necessary to close the store today, and so resentful of the few customers who weren't sensible enough to stay home and let me do the same, I arrived at work almost in tears. A perfect day of books and movies and hot chocolate thwarted by retail. Retail. Disgusting.

But now I'm determined to start over. I have the rest of the evening off, and tomorrow too. I need to relax, even if I can't quite pretend to be utterly but contentedly snowbound (which was always my favorite part of the Little House books). Pajamas, here I come.