It's been an exceptionally snowy winter here in Philly, and considering I now live hundreds of miles south of where I gained my gauge on what a "snowy winter" entails, that's pretty impressive. While everyone around me is hating the shit out of this, I'm silently loving it and feeling sort of guilty that I'm taking pleasure from something that is driving everyone else insane. The first snow of the season was a solid three months ago and the whole snow thing is still really fun to me. Like riding around with studded tires in this? Very entertaining.
I guess I'm just a northern person, who knew. I used to actively hate winter.
On the other hand, when I'm not being amused at how shockingly well the Fang camouflages with the snowy streets, I am wearing my jean jackets around the house having little day dreams about walking outside without swaddling myself in 30 different wool garments. Jean jacket weather! I feel like rolling in dirt and drinking a beer in the park. Doesn't that sound like a good time?