I think I've complained before about the snow in winter -- specifically, that there should be snow around Christmastime because that is how people usually picture the holiday, but after, say, New Year's Day it is absolutely pointless and in fact turns into nothing but an obstacle for living. Today reinforces that belief.
The snow actually started to fall last night, after I got out of the late screening of The Post. (Review: Important movie, very timely, yet I didn't think it was all that well done, or that exciting. B?) I heard there was a chance of snow on the radio on my way into work yesterday/Tuesday, but since I didn't watch the weather report on TV, I kind of shoved what I heard in the back of my mind, so this snowfall blindsided similarly to the inch of snow that fell Tuesday and Wednesday of last week, and the four damn inches of snow that really fucked me over Super Bowl Saturday. Every single time it snowed it made everything slippery on the road and screwed up my driving, whether it was to work, from work, meeting these guys at a brewery or going to *****e* to fuck her.
When I went to bed last night I set my alarm a little earlier so I could get out a little earlier, in case the roads were bad enough that Minnesota drivers decided to be cautious. But stupid, lazy me, I only got out to my car, like, three minutes earlier than usual, and those three minutes were eaten up because I had to clear my car of the snow that fell on it after I got home after the movie around 11:30. I got to work 15 minutes late, and remembering all the slow-and-go traffic I knew I would encounter because it happened Tuesday and Wednesday of last week, I don't know why in the hell I didn't make a more concerted effort to get up, say, 30 minutes earlier.
So yes, ultimately this is my fault. But damn, besides replenishing our water supply, there really is no real good reason for snow to fall in February, is there? We've been catching up on preciptation the last week, and I think it's enough.
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