No one to blame but myself

We have had an exceptionally cold and snowy winter in my corner of the world. I may have mentioned that a time or two..not sure. Anyway, there has literally been snow on the ground since the beginning of December. However, good fortune smiled upon us this week and we had temperatures in the 50s (albeit low 50s, but 50s nonetheless!) on Monday and Tuesday. It was heaven. For those two days, the temperatures and the on again/off again rain helped to wash away a great deal of the snow. By Wednesday, the only snow left were the huge piles in parking lots and ditches left over from all the snow plows all winter, and even those were starting to grow smaller. I was so pleased with the 2 days in the 50s and the quickly increasing lack of snow, that I decided to chance it by wearing my beloved flip flops on Wednesday. The weather woman (I'm not being uber feminist here, she is a woman and she does the weather. I'm simply giving you details.) promised 55 degrees and I decided to take the opportunity to air out my winter piggies. Of course, in typical fashion for me, it did not get past 44. But I really want spring so I didn't even mind. It was a wonderful day and I couldn't wait for even warmer weather so I can permanently shed my socks until fall.

Last night, we had some pretty heavy rain showers, which I love because I sleep so well with the rain on the roof. When I woke up, I peeked out the window on the stairs on my way to the coffee pot. There were 2 reasons for this: 1. I wanted to see if it was still raining. (It was.) and 2. I wanted to bask in the glory that through the window I could see absolutely no snow. I made coffee and & went on about my getting ready business.

As I came down the stairs a mere 45 minutes later to leave for school, movement outside that same window caught my eye. I slowly raised my hand to the window to peek through the blinds, terrified that I was about to see something I didn't want to see. As I separated the slats, my worst fear was confirmed. It was snowing. And I don't mean a flurry. I mean big, fat, wet, and sticking snowflakes. The car has at least an inch on it and where 45 minutes earlier had been muddy and barren ground was now fully covered in a fresh blanket of snow. That is when I realized that it was all my fault. If I had only been patient and kept my flip flops safely in the closet just a little bit longer, maybe the weather gods would not have seen fit to punish me with more winter weather. I only feel bad because my thoughtlessness is taking the whole town down with me. So, here's to hoping that the farmer's almanac is wrong and there won't be a March blizzard-and that the sands of time will fall quickly to warmer days.