I am still not adapted to losing that hour of sleep. I never really get there, I don't think, till the sun comes out and I go outside, look at the crocuses blooming and here the birds and just get to back in the sun. That's when I can forgive Father Time.
That's what I woke up to Tuesday morning. Three inches of powdery snow, and more falling all day. Time to pull my scarves out - and give myself a quick pat on the back for even thinking to pack any - and put on some layers.
Even though I grew up in North Idaho, I'm not cut out for snow. I never liked it. I never got into snowboarding or skiing or sledding. Being cold and wet has no appeal for me, and I would rather pull my fingernails out than drive in the snow.
Especially in Moscow, with all the students who have never even seen snow trying to drive the same way they do in California. It's scary. Legitimately.
I am not made for cold weather. When the sun comes out, I have been found in the practice building, sitting in the most uncomfortable places, simply because that is where the patch of sunshine is coming through. I love me some sunshine.
But right. At the moment, North Idaho is not sunny. Yesterday it snowed and today it is raining.
It's like Father Time and Mother Nature are conspiring to make the people of North Idaho feel as lurgy as possible.
(Yes, lurgy is a word. Kind of a mix of blegh and lethargic, but those words on their own just wouldn't quite cover the true feeling.)
Pray that my heart doesn't stop with the crash from this.