At the risk of sounding exactly like that famous Christmas spoil-sport, Ebenezer Scrooge, I am going to say something some of you will find a little Grinchy.
I could also channel the Cathy comic with an, "Ack!" or Charlie Brown with a, "horrors!" You're probably wondering what the problem is. My answer is simple. It's snowing. SNOWING. Sideways. It sounds like the Big Bad Wolf is out there. It feels like it's trying to make up for the winter we had last year, a winter in which we had no delays or cancellations due to weather. A winter I would more than happily re-live for the rest of my life. I hate snow. Hate driving in it, shoveling it, standing in it, being cold because of it, everything. White Christmases, to me, are incredibly overrated. Snowy Christmases means people can't get to church, won't take their babies out in cute Christmas outfits, won't drive to see friends, and will become hermits. Unless you're a kid. Then you'll be outside every chance you get, tracking 12 tons of snow back inside because you forgot to pee before you put on your 12 layers of clothes (including snowpants) and because your hands are freezing because your gloves got soaked and because you got hit in the face with a snowball and never mind the fact that you shoved snow down the back of your sibling's coat and started the whole thing.
My curtains are resolutely yanked shut. The weather channel is predicting 6-12" of the white stuff and winds gusting to 35 mph. Is it James Taylor who sings, "in my mind I'm going to California"? In my mind, I'm way past him already, on a beach in Hawaii where clothes are for decoration instead of necessity. That's not the slap of the screen door against the glass door. That's the tap of steel drums and the lap of the ocean against the sand.
I'll take pictures later.