One of the things I love most about Michigan is the fact that we have four seasons. Granted, D's right, sometimes it seems more like two. Mostly, it's two super long ones and two far too short ones. But I love the transition from one season to another. There's something about the rhythm of the changes that makes me smile.
However, this post isn't about how I feel about seasons.
It's about how I feel about winter.
Huge, heaving sigh...
You know when I like winter?
From about Thanksgiving day until New Year's Day.
It can snow as much as it wants from the end of Thanksgiving to the beginning of January, then it needs to knock it the hell off.
Unfortunately, this isn't how Michigan rolls.
It's all about snow and ice and cold and more snow and ice and cold. It's about treacherous driving conditions, slipping on icy sidewalks and people that can't drive for shit.
Granted, the snow is pretty. And I wouldn't mind it so much if I could just watch it come down from the warmth and comfort of my couch.
But since that's not an option, I'm desperately hoping for spring.