I hate snow
The last time I remember liking snow was when I was about 12 years old. It was on the farm where I grew up. Me and my oldest brother Mick got sent out to do the shoveling and clearing. I don’t remember the logistics of it, but Mick’s snow gear must have already been wet or somehow unavailable so he put on my mom’s brand new snow suit and out we went.
Well it doesn’t take two youngsters too long to start heaving snow balls and having fun. Next thing I knew Mick was laying in the driveway wiggling all around doing the “worm” and Mom was just livid and hollering at him because he was doing it in her brand new snow suit.
The louder she yelled the more we laughed.
That was a great memory but ever since then I think the snow has been a pain in my arse. Shoveling, plowing, clearing off the truck, busting the ice so the animals can drink. I hate everything about it.
It usually takes me 40 minutes to get home from work. Tonight it was an hour and a half.
I want it to be 75 degrees and windy so I can go sailing.