I’m starting to take snow personally

I’ve never really liked snow. It’s cold and wet and, well, cold and wet.

I’m really a desert rose. I flourish in heat and warmth. I did my dissertation work in the tropics for a reason; because I like warm. I like heat and sun and thunderstorms that you feel in your teeth. I like sweating and cold drinks and putting your feet in the cool ocean.

So tonight I’m in upstate New York and, you guessed it, it’s snowing. Snowing like they have to get all the snow used up or something bad is going to happen. I’m starting to take this all personally. Every place I’ve been since the beginning of the year has had snow.

Why can’t I go to warm places with cool breezes? Where I don’t lug a coat and scarves with me? Where I can rent a car because I know how to drive?

I feel like snow is following me around, trying to get to know me, like that guy in the bar that won’t stop talking to you no matter what. Snow seems to be saying: Do you like me here? How about here? OK, how about if I snow here?  How’s that? Better or worse?

I need to go to bed. I’m tired and it’s snowing.

Again.

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