I have a love-hate relationship with snow. I love how even an inch can turn a grimy cityscape into a fresh Winter Wonderland. I love the reflection of my strobing red lights in falling snow. I love the way the town is turned into an otherworldly Christmas card.
I love the feel of an all-wheel-drive vehicle hugging the road, even through a thick white blanket. One can even practice things like resolving skids and handbrake turns without putting undue stress on vehicle parts.
Snowmen. Snowball fights. Even just walking in snow can be fun, if you're in the right mood.
I hate snow, though. It piles on you and weighs you down. It makes even the most routine responses anything but routine. It hides the street signs, and it can give you the same powerless, out-of-control feel of sledding - in an ambulance.
After its done, though, all there is to do is hate it. It goes from pretty to dirty, soot stained and yellowed in a day or two. Then, depending on how much there is, it can linger. It makes simple tasks like parking on the street, and walking down the sidewalk, a treacherous challenge. It also makes good people have accidents. They slip and they fall, and as they shovel out, they overexert and injure themselves, in some cases, they even have MI's
Tonight I get to enjoy it, though. It is only a dusting - an inch, maybe two. Someone else did the driving, and I'm off duty for my last weekend off before my (hopefully) last undergraduate semester starts next week.