When I was a child I loved winter. I loved everything about winter. I loved the snow. The cold. Snow Days. The holidays. My birthday. I loved it all.
Now, not so much. I dream of a world where snow falls on Christmas Eve, and Christmas day and then we get to wear slip-slops the day after. I don’t like the cold. At all. Not a fan.
I’m not a fan of snow either. I used to be. I used to start praying for snow in July. Because I didn’t like the heat. I remember one Thanksgiving driving home from Kansas on an interstate covered with ice. And when I say covered in ice I really mean, COVERED…completely. All the lanes, the shoulders, exit ramps, the whole kit and kaboodle was covered. I saw semis jack-knife in the median. I saw a car slide by me on its door. Cars spun cookies in front of me.
It was white-knuckle driving at its finest.
Now I’m the most happy in winter when I can stay home, huddle under blankets with my thermos of coffee, with the space heater running full blast.
Of course the space heater running full bore is a bit of an issue for other parts of the house. It does tend to make the furnace think the house is as hot as the surface of the sun when really only one room is. And by the surface of the sun I mean 70 degrees.
I can’t however spend 6 months of the year huddled under blankets.
We spent most of January unseasonably warm, while the east coast got the weather we usually have. I’m not complaining. They might be, but me? I’m happy. Or I was until February hit.
Snow and cold. Cold and snow.
If anyone lives in FL, SOCal, Hawaii and wants to trade…I’ll gladly swap with you.