(That's my car, by the way, serving as the dutiful comparison point. Such a good sport, my car. I'm pretty sure that it's saying, "What the hell? I thought you said there wouldn't be any more of this nonsense after we left the NEPIW! Where's my garage??")
The car is even more unhappy. If you look closely, I believe you can see an obscene gesture or two.
Anyway, it kept snowing, and snowing, and snowing. Now, at 4:45PM, it looks like this:
The car's obscene gestures are now hidden in the blanket of snow. I think I can still hear a muffled, and chattery expletive or two.
The snow is kind of pretty:
Any other Sunday and this weather event would have meant a guaranteed day off as the college town and Big City shut down until the big thaw. Instead, the snow arrived on the weekend that starts Spring Break. In other words, a weekend when I don't have to teach on Monday. My mother, a former schoolteacher, used to call this kind of ill-timed snowstorm, "a waste of perfectly good snow." I have a whole new appreciation for her sentiment.
The power just flickered in my apartment. Not feeling good about the snow anymore.
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