I never knew how much rage the sight of snow could provoke.

I mean, it’s so pretty and white, fluffy and falling like tiny ice cream from the sky.

Except,

I’m so incredibly tired of seeing it. It feels sometimes that all I remember is endless landscapes of white, and winter-blue skies

Where has the heat gone? Are we in a post-apocalyptic wasteland? Is this it?

Is this to be my destiny?

Sighing, I turn away from my wipers crunching yet again on the icy windshield and take ten deep breaths.

Shoving my frustration deep into the place I keep all such things locked up I remind myself,

It’s only one week until spring.

Just one.