It's so exciting to have snow around here. It literally shuts down the entire city, and people inexplicably buy all the bread and milk available. It becomes some kind of crazy self-fulfilling prophecy of milk shortage because you have to run and buy it before the crazy people go buy all of it.
Where do they think we live? Vermont? Our piddling little inch of snow (that melts by midmorning, by the way) doesn't even register as a minor nuisance up north.
Nevertheless, the local weathermen have been blustering on about snow all weekend. Sure. OK. I woke up at 5:30 to the crunchy sound of ICE hitting the windows, but not snow. I wish it were snow, and not for the obvious reasons. This ice is bad. It brings down trees laden with it. A couple of years ago, my neighbor's pine tree fell into our yard, the branches brushing the corner of our bedroom. I'll pass on the ice, thanks.
And yet, it's the snow that gets coverage and attention. For my money, an ice storm carries way more drama. It's pretty, too.
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