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Well, if I’m wrong I’ll be the first to admit it. Accordingly: I was wrong, it snowed.
I woke up this morning and took my first look at the Sunday I’d woken into and was greeted by a flurry of snow. Thinking to myself that it won’t last I showered and prepared for the day and headed to my Dad’s for laundry day*. Again, I was wrong. The snow picked up momentum as I wandered to my car with my arms full and continued as I drove the 8 miles or so to the countryside. Where I found it had not only continued but began to settle.
Excellent. I like the snow. I’ve never had a problem with driving in it and find it a whole lot nicer to look at than ran. Though would the world get so happy about it if it were not white but, say, brown? Exactly the same texture etc but brown? Is snow racist??
I don’t care. I like the snow. I’d really like to go somewhere where they get a lot of it, say.. Romania.. This snow, however, will probably be gone by tomorrow. As Calvin once stated: getting half an inch of snow is like winning 25 cents in the lottery. I feel it unfair that as an adult it’s snowed more than in my childhood and I have to go to work rather than stay at home and throw snowballs. Maybe I could get reimbursed.
This morning I had breakfast at my Dad’s. It was more of a contintal breakfast really – strong coffee and chocolate brioche and, even though I was looking out at the garden getting progressivly coated in the racist snow, I could only think of how in two weeks I’d be having breakfast on the continent. With Bolivian coffee from a new coffee maker.
One of the best things about snow is sitting inside with a warm mug of coffee and watching it happen without getting cold.
*Laundry Day: I do my own laundry but use my Dad’s washer and dryer. I don’t still turn up at my parent’s and expect them to wash a few bin bags full of clothes. Unlike a certain sibling…



