Hate the Snow But Love a Snow Day
We’re on our second snow day in a row. Yesterday I did a deep clean of the house with the kids, and we made muffins, went sledding, and read Harry Potter. I got all of the laundry done. I spent every moment I wasn’t in the snow in my pyjamas, as did the kids.
I love snow days.
But I hate actual snow.
Image: Chelsea Gomez via Flickr
I don’t like the cold. Every winter, I thank the powers of the universe for pairing me with a man who has never asked me to go skiing. I don’t. like. skiing. Before you say anything, I will tell you that I gave skiing a try. Like a few tries. Like more than a few tries. But I couldn’t see the point of paying to go up a hill only to come down a hill. If the point is to get to the bottom, I would like to just cut out the minutes in between and stay at the bottom. I stopped skiing at some point in high school and have never had a desire to return to the slopes.
Sometimes I say that I want to go snow tubing, but I forget that means going out in the snow. And I don’t like the snow. I really don’t think I can stress that enough. Me and snow? Not friends.
I don’t like cold climates, though I lived in Madison for four years. I would never willingly choose to go somewhere cold. I mean, there are people I love who live somewhere cold, so I go and visit them in their cold home states. (Or in the case of one friend, she sends me all the way up to Canada! Windsor-freakin’-Canada!) But while I love going to places that get cold during their warmer months, such as visiting the aforementioned Canada in summertime (it’s divine!), I would never choose to go on a vacation to someplace snowy in the winter. When people tell me that they can’t wait because they just booked tickets for a ski vacation, I smile wanly and tell them that sounds fabulous. But really, that’s my version of hell. Hell isn’t hot. Hell is like Hoth.
I wear sweaters through the summer. Through the DC summer. Swampy, too-hot-to-breathe-according-to-some-people DC; I don’t think I’ve ever left the house without a sweater in tow in the summer months. I wear jeans to the pool. There are two pictures of me on the beach from two separate trips this summer; both wearing heavy sweatshirts over my t-shirt.
Did I mention I hate snow?
But there is nothing I love more than a snow day. Watching the snow falling outside. Not being able to go anywhere. Making sure all the flashlights have batteries. Wearing sweatpants and heavy socks and slippers. I love watching snow within a heated space with a panel of glass between myself and the substance. I mean, yes, for the sake of the kids, I will take them sledding and even take a few rides down the hill, cursing the snow as it seeps into my jeans. But after fifteen minutes, I’m done with snow and ready to go back inside.
Where it is cozy.
And there’s no homework. And no early wake-time. And no driving to activities. There’s just… sigh. Good books and hot chocolate.