I know better than to hope for snow every time it appears on the weather forecast. I've been disappointed by the brownish-gray dreariness outside my window too many times to be duped by "80% chance of snow" projections.
However, constant, crushing disappointment hasn't jaded me so far as to prevent hope that this year's winter will make up for last year's lack. In my mind, Mother Nature is scientifically obligated to dump snowstorm after snowstorm on top of me.
Instead, the forecast promises snow and either fails to deliver, or even worse, gifts it to ungrateful complainers. I realize that it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but as far as I'm concerned, we're a year past due for some good snow.
I've never been good at waiting for the first magical snow of the year. I'll take comfort in knowing that Calvin, at least, understands the torture.
Hahaha! You should move to Woodland Hills someday. 😝
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