Snow and socks

Two nights ago, there was a fantastic snowstorm that really made a mess of things. It wasn't all bad. I waited for the bus in it, and there were huge huge 'flakes' blowing around in the air and it was very picturesque, watching snow fluff swirl to the ground. The bus ride home took a while, but it would have taken a while driving, too, so I guess I can't really complain. (Well, I can. But why bother?) 

Anyway, the next morning, I headed out to catch the bus for work, and got to enjoy the end result. It was a very WET snow, and therefore very heavy, and there were a few fallen tree branches. It was also very wet and for some odd reason, everyone decided that clearing the walks was a silly idea. As I was walking towards the bus stop, I saw the bus drive right on down the road. Hurrah. 

The good news was that I had time to walk to the stop where I meet my connecting bus. The bad news was that--oh yeah, remember those uncleared walks? I got to traipse through all that snow. Or walk in the road, which seemed a less intelligent course of action. 

So I traipsed. And tried to keep my feet dry. Until I realized it wasn't going to happen. And then I just embraced the walk. Well, embraced. I don't know. I mean it was as much of an embrace as can be given to snow and wet feet. But I have learned that there comes a point when you just have to stop worrying about things like wet feet (or babies getting food on your shirt, or noise, or whatever), because some things are inevitable and worrying about them is just a waste of time. 

Well, no surprise, my feet were soaked when I got to work. I got some paper towels and tried to squeeze off the excess water in my socks, and I stuffed paper towels in my shoes. And spent the rest of the day running around in my socks. At work. Yes indeed. And I felt just a little bit wild and rebellious. 

Truthfully? I kind of enjoyed it. Here's to snow and socks.