Winter has arrived. I know, I know, the calendar says it hasn't, but the calendar doesn't have to walk to the bus stop in the morning in snow and wind.
I knew it was going to happen eventually, I just wasn't ready for it so soon. I thought maybe a week or two at least. But no such luck.
I'm not totally anti-winter. I actually do like having a winter, rather than just less warm. But somehow, this year there is a bit of sad about it. Probably just my own melancholy, and there is a special something about winter (snow is pretty. It's just so darn cold!)
I think that the first snow should automatically result in a day off the next day, because snow begs to be enjoyed from the comfort of one's covers.
And I'm back to the bus stop, and how cold it is going to be, and how I really need to leave the house 15 minutes before I usually do, which means I should go to sleep. And at least briefly enjoy the snowfall from under the covers as I fall asleep.
Nothing kills the magic of winter like the reality of morning.
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