Okay it was kind of pretty for a while

The thing that always bugs me about snow is everybody's reaction to it. When it's imminent, everybody gets excited, running around to the store in anticipation of getting trapped in their homes (hey, some of us face this prospect daily), or the interest in seeing the beauty of snow-covered garbage or something.

But the day after the snow has fallen, everybody hates it, whines about the icy sidewalks and slush-filled puddles. Snow that sits around for a few days gets an impacted, stale look to it, and what was momentarily a winter wonderland becomes a constant irritant everywhere you look.

Anyway that's what it seems like to me. Even when I try to get into this fleeting 'fun' notion of snowfall, dread always looms in my gullet as it approaches. Mostly this is because I have to shovel the damn stuff. This isn't just some neighborly thing, it's a law that states that snow must be cleared within a few hours after the snow stops falling. In all the hype, I ended up shoveling three times on Wednesday, for fear that the snow would accumulate so high that waiting until it was over would mean backbreaking labor.

When I saw there were barely 9 inches total I felt like a dope for falling for it. I guess all my extra shoveling did make it a little easier by the time I shoveled the last bit, but next time I plan to forgo the hysterical news reports and watch Groundhog Day until the snow is over.