wherupon my brain shows its true colours

Snow snow SNOW snow!! SNOW SNOW snow snow snoooow! SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOOOOOOOOW!! SNOW snow snow SNOW SNOW SNOW snow snow!! SNOW snoooooooow snow snow snow!! SNOW snow!! SNOW!! SNOW snow snow SNOOOW! SNOW SNOW snow snow! SNOW snow snow!! SNOW! SNOoOOW snow snow snow snow snow snow snow! SNOW snow SNOOOOOOOOOOOW!!

We can’t see farther than four buildings away through our eigth story office window.

My bus slid on ice and I had to walk to work from Crackton.

Other buses have also been jack-knifing.

Meanwhile, I can’t stop singing the snow song or doing the happy snow dance.

It’s real snow, too. Dry, crunchy, catch it on your tongue beautiful, glittering gorgeous snow.
None of the gross, clingy, west coast wet stuff.

When I say I walked to work, really I mean I frolicked to work, wide eyed and happy.

Dear merciful life, I freaking LOVE snow.