I just had the worst snow experience in my entire life.
Just about 2 feet of snow dumped on East Hampton over a period of two days. When I opened my door Tuesday morning, the bottom two feet of my door were imprinted into the freshly laid snow. It was a winter wonderland in my driveway. Not a single tool, planter or CAR was visible. The snow drifts were tall. Everything was blinding white.
I’m no newbie to snow, really. I may not be subjected to Buffalo-levels, but when I moved here four years ago from Georgia, there were large piles of it on the sides of the roads. Three neighbors helped me push my car out of an embankment on my first day of work. Last year, we were hit with snow storms one after the other after the other. But never have I gotten so much snow in one fell swoop.
I spent hours on Tuesday and many more hours today moving the stuff around, throwing it over my shoulder viciously as the sun moved across the sky. It was like any work I thought I had done was canceled out by the work I still had to do. It just wouldn’t…go…away.
I can now count myself as one of those who, at the mere mention of snow, cringes. I used to like snow. I used to go out and spin in the damn stuff and wish it would snow regularly. In Georgia, snow means no school. Snow means freedom and fun and joyful sledding down lightly dusted mounds your neighborhood.
Here? Snow means that the commute just got exponentially more difficult and that the kids need a babysitter because the office hasn’t closed. Snow means sliding around like a bumper car, except this isn’t a carnival and you might die. It means not being able to get down your street because it doesn’t get plowed. Need to get out? Sorry. You might have a blessed quite night as the snow falls, but it is very short-lived because you know once you wake up it is go-time.
Snow isn’t even that pretty, guys.