Fucking hell, I hate dealing with snow, "dealing with" being the operative phrase. I like snow when it when it is not on my car and sidewalk. I enjoy building snowmen and having snowball fights and wearing my jammies while gazing out at a winter wonderland. But when I have to do something about it? Screw that. Today I am faced with the daunting task of digging out my car without a shovel after a snow fall of 17 inches. I am procrastinating and reading the paper. I just saw a headline in the Star Tribune that said "Report: 2 people die in Minneapolis fire" and my immediate reaction was envy. "I wish I could die in a fire," I muttered crankily, as I turned and glared at the mixing bowl I am going to have to use for my snow removal. Yes, I am a occasionally a little melodramatic. What's it to you?
Today, I am feeding the bad wolf.
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