snow's invasion of March

It’s freaking snowing in Seattle.  I’m afraid of snow.  I hate it, it’s not fun, except when I wear fifteen layers of clothing, can’t flex my joints, have on a ski mask and I travel to it.  If I fall in the snow, I’m like a turtle, or a beetle or some other creature that can’t flip from its back.  I don’t like when snow comes to me, I consider it an invasion.  Except, there’s nothing to battle so I just freak out, tell the office to pack it in, save themselves, we’ll be SNOWED IN!  The buses won’t run and no one can get out of the city and We. Will. Be. Stranded.  This I say with complete honesty and fear, the type of fear that people get when they realize that maybe their God ISN’T a loving and merciful God!  Oh jeebus, the non-loving and non-merciful SNOW!  They chuckle at my over reaction because we are on the 20th floor and by the time it hits street level it’s actually just a gentle misting of rain. 

I don’t care.  I’ve watched it steadily increase and it’s coming in at an angle, which signals a superior invasion strategy.  One that I have not prepared for.  I left the house with only a scarf and my Mariners baseball hat.  No gloves!  No ski mask!  A limited defense!  Furious angled snowfall could get underneath the cap bill and into my eye, the Mariners may not be able to save me.  I will be blinded and then slip, fall and cry.  Last time it snowed, I didn’t have the protection of a hat.  It was a random, I don’t know what you would call it, assault? Yes, assault of snow that was not anticipated.  I was out with the Man, we were shopping and I got a FLURRY IN MY EYE.  Blinded.  We headed for home immediately, I had to hold onto the Man ‘cause I was fearful that another shot into the eye would occur.  It did.  That day I ended up taking two flurries to the eye.  They are cold!

Everytime I look out the window, the intensity of snow’s assault has increased.  I’ve chewed off the nail on my middle finger!  I’m so glad I wore tights under my jeans today and kitten heels instead of full-blown stilettos. 

The month of March is the longest crappiest month of the whole year.  No negotiating.  It needs to take a hint from its predecessor, February and KNOW ITS ROLE!  This is not a fun month; therefore it should be limited to 26 days, a notch down from February for pain and suffering.  Then, we will extend June and July by 2 days and August by 1.  That is a well-rounded and appreciable year.  Stupid March.