I hate snow. I will tell you that right upfront. I donít even like to see it on the weather channel. I do admit to a certain perverse enjoyment seeing Buffalo, NY, digging out. Been there. Three feet of snow making your car look like a snow sculpture.
Fine. Call in and tell them you canít make it. Get on the shoveling clothes. Get the shovel. Shovel. Shovel some more. Wear yourself out. Dig a path to drive out of. Go in the house for hot chocolate...with those little marshmallows floating on top. Look out the front window at the snowcapped mountain. Beautiful.
Hear the snowplow coming up the street. Look out the side window as it covers your car back up. Curse.
Now, in the South, I have no snow. Bugs and creepy things trying to creep into the house, sure. Hell, a little stomping takes care of that. No one coming along putting more of them in.
Okay, we donít have ski slopes. We donít have snow bunnies to be more exact. We have beach bunnies. Women covered from head to toe or not covered at all. Some choice, eh?
How do I miss the snow? Let me count the ways: