I hate squeeky snow. You know that sound it makes when it is below too-cold-to-be-out degrees? It is like fingernails down a blackboard to me – I can barely even write about it as it sends shivers down my spine. It is usually accompained by frozen eyeballs and nose hairs. I hate that too, but not as much as squeeky snow.
I hate people who share way too much information about their lives in public too. |Squeeky snow, people with no personal boundries, panhandlers when it is the afore mentioned t00-cold-to-be-out degrees – they play upon guilt manipulating my fear of freezing to death into a means of collecting income they did not work for.
I do love the feel of hardwood floors on my bare feet though. The lines of drifted snow with the sharp edges and fat magpies tossing snow to find seeds in the feeder. Oh and hot water and lemon and a warm grain bag to tuck into the blankets. All good.
So, even though the snow was squeeky today, and I hate that, the good outweighed the bad, especially since I am home, tucked in snug.
