Okay. I hate complaining on this blog, but whatever. I'm gonna say it: I'm so sick of snow. We've had storm after storm beginning around Christmas. The first big blizzard, I thought that was cool because we hadn't gotten a good snow storm in several years. But now I don't care if I ever see the winter elements again.
I've never been a big fan of winter. (Meaning I hate everything about it) I love the sun. I love summer. I love bonfires, crunchy leaves and walks in the woods. I love bike rides. I love (well loved) walking the dog. I suppose you could do that in winter, but it's awfully hard.
What I don't love:
Snow in piles so high it blocks your mailbox.
Cars not starting.
Chapped hands, face and lips.
The fact that for the first time ever in my LIFE a couple of weeks ago, I got frozen eyelashes after being outside for 15 minutes. FROZEN EYELASHES. I suppose I shouldn't complain too much. One of the blogs I read is about adventures in Alaska for pete sakes. But this isn't the tundra. It's New Jersey. We're not supposed to have temps below 0.
We just got out from under an ice storm. (My car was in cased in ice because it wasn't in the garage. My dear, wonderful father had to take an ice pick and start breaking off chunks) Today, I got stuck in a patch of ice mixed with a pile of snow, and couldn't leave my own street after skidding into the elements. As I heard (and felt) my tires spin, I muttered a few expletives my momma never taught me, and finally gave up, putting my car in park. Triple A was called.
We might be getting our tenth (yes...TENTH) snow storm next week. I don't even want to think about it. I refuse.
"Hey Katie," my father said. "Remember your vow to move down south after staying with Erin for awhile?"
"We might join you."
I want lows of MAYBE 40 degrees. And even that's pushing it.