Sick. Of Snow.

I'm not actually sick. In fact, everyone in the house is nice and healthy at the moment, and that's just the way I like it. But there was another couple of inches of snow last night, and we're supposed to be getting slammed with a big storm starting tomorrow late in the morning. Ugh!

I know that the thaw is coming.  I know that within a couple of weeks, the plow piles will start to disappear and—once we get past the muddy part—New Hampshire will put on it's pretty greenery, the sunny days will actually be warm days, and I can finally shut down the heaters.

But the prospect of shoveling even one more snow this season makes me want to crawl under the covers and hibernate.

Which wouldn't be such a bad idea if it wasn't for the small matter of both Thomas and Karen needing to go to work. So I'll be out with the snowblower and the shovels, making it happen.

But I hope this is the last time.