At my house. About 6 flakes. This is what has become of the weather man’s idle speculation yesterday. 1-3 inches my foot. I can’t help but be excited for snow, even though I have no good reason to be. It’s not as though I actually have the possibility of a “snow day.” Snow just makes driving to work dangerous (especially when you consider how many of the other cars on the road have potentially NEVER driven in snow before) and running a cold, wet, and possibly slippery experience. No good at all. Cold is one thing. Wet and cold something else entirely. And then there’s always the frightening possibility that snow will become ice, trees will fall down, and electricity will become a fond memory. The first year we lived in South Carolina, we lost power for three days because of ice that melted away in two hours. Yuck.
Scott reminded me of these things last night, when I was depressed that it hadn’t started snowing before I went to bed. “You don’t really want snow, you know.” I know. But I like the idea of snow…so pretty and different and rare. Sigh.