We are expecting snow here tomorrow and the thought of it unnerves me. Used not to at all for in fact I loved it and always looked forward to a "snow day" as I was a teacher. Since I'm not teaching anymore, I have developed a love-hate relationship with snow. Love it when I have food and the necessities in my house. Hate it when I'm caught off guard and am out of things I desperately need. And you are probably asking why: The reason is that I live on top of a huge mountain.
If it snows a lot and it's cold, there is more snow up here than down on the flat part--like a lot more. The main hill can resemble a ski path and often people really did ski off the main hill. It gets covered with ice and I'm pretty sure that the men that run the snow plows don't care for going down it at all. I've seen them literally back up at the hill and go up the street. I would too if I were in that snow plow.
And so I will pace back and forth tonight to see if the weather forecasters are right. When "they" say a few flakes, it is more like several inches of snow. Just great if I were brave like I used to be but I am not brave any more nor do I have a desire to go sideways down the hill. Been there and did that and actually lived through it.
You can guess what I'll doing tonight: Pacing. Do I have to go to work? No. It's the feeling of being trapped inside that gets to me. "Let it snow?" No. Rest my case.
Sherry Hill
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