Snow: a Love/Hate Relationship

As a small child living in Florida, I was always fascinated with snow.  A white Christmas was one of my fondest dreams!  Frozen precipitation that could make the world more beautiful seemed like a miracle to me as I bundled up in my heaviest coat in the 50-degree Orlando weather.  When I moved to Virginia 14 years ago (I feel really old right now!), I was so excited for the winter weather.  As a teenager, I woke up early on snow days and went outside to sled  and make snow angels and build snow forts.  When I eventually had to go out somewhere, my dad always shoveled out my car and turned on the heat to make sure it was warm for me when I left. 

When I went to college, I was slightly less enamored with snow.  I lived about 1.5 miles from my classes, and stupid college rarely had snow days!  Steep hills, ice, and my natural klutziness made for treacherous, albeit hilarious, treks to Grounds.  Thankfully, the University had a bus system so I didn't have to walk too far.  And normally I could leave my car sitting in the parking lot until the snow melted, so I didn't have to shovel anything.  (One time my car did get stuck behind a mound of plowed snow-turned-ice that didn't melt for weeks.  I had to break it out with a tire iron.  It took me hours and my hands were bloody, but I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment, like a pioneer woman.  But that's another story!)  While I didn't appreciate having to go out, I only had to be in class a few hours most days which left me plenty of time enjoy the view from my apartment with a cup of coffee and flannel pajamas.  

It wasn't until after graduation that I really began to dislike snow.  It turns out that real-world businesses are even less likely to close because of snow than college campuses!  There was no bus that would take me to my office, and I had to shovel out my own car.  Even worse than shoveling out my car was waking up the next morning to find that my stupid neighbors had knocked the snow off of their cars and onto mine.  It is ridiculously hard to dig a car out of a little apartment-complex parking spot in work-appropriate attire.  My aforementioned klutziness certainly didn't help matters!  

Last winter I finally had to break up with snow.  Huge snowfall after huge snowfall led to hours of shoveling, ruined boots, bloody feet, aching hands, hours without power, and more near-death traveling experiences than I'd like to recount.  Worst of all, I twisted my ankles so many times that they are now permanently misshapen.  I can no longer wear shoes with ankle straps!  Needless to say, that was the last straw.

Still, yesterday was the first big snowfall of the year, and I found myself getting excited.  It's so beautiful, and Jack loves the snow.  Since I work from home, I don't have to worry about getting to an office.  I got new boots for Christmas which will hopefully keep me from killing myself.  I'm tempted to reconcile.  But I miss ankle straps!  I think I'll have to put this relationship to a test:  I'm heading out now to shovel the driveway.  I guess I'll see if my newly-rediscovered appreciation can survive manual labor.  Bets are welcome.