I hate snow.
When did that happen? I used to love snow. It used to be my thing. Snow storms, nine years ago, meant a day off, snow fights, snow castles, watching my husky tunnel under snow drifts and making decent one-day money plowing with my uncle.
Fast forward nine years later, my dog is gone, my uncle has passed and I am sitting in front of a computer screen donning five make-shift blankets as robes in an effort to maintain enough heat as I surf the day’s stories and do a little writing.
I fucking hate snow.
I think New Mexico made me soft. That’s what I am going to blame it on. Seven years in the desert with barely any precipitation tore away all of my natural proclivities to cold weather. I remember when I first moved to Albuquerque people would question my desire to wear shorts in 40 degree weather. As time passed I lost that ability to do that.
Right now, I long for it to be 40 degrees.
One more time: I really fucking hate snow.