Dirty Snow Drifts

I'm tired of you
 That point has come in the winter. I snapped...I about went ballistic. All my life I have lived in cold weather climates in the northern United States, so it's something I'm somewhat accustomed to, but it hits me harder each year, and it hits harder in the Twin Cities than in Montana. That point when I'm driving in my car and I'm just watching the dirty snowdrifts on the side of the road and my car will be warm in like 10 minutes when I'm at my destination and crap there's a pothole I just hit and speaking of my car its covered in highly-corrosive salt after I washed it a week ago and what does grass look like again and brr it's so freaking cold in this state.
The dirty snowdrift ranks quite high on my list of least-favorite things. Somewhere between tuna and Robert Horry. Snow is beautiful when it falls, and, in fact, I think the snow falling outside my window right now is beautiful even with the mood that I am in. But that snowdrift that is mixed with road particles and sand and car parts and garbage? Melt. And melt soon. 

But, the redeeming factor about this moment is the moment that immediately follows. I see the grassy green outfield. I smell the clippings and the barbecue. I taste the sunflower seeds and feel the sun giving me cancer. I hear the crack of the bat. Spring will be coming, folks. Spring will be coming. 

Also, yes, I know, I did choose to live here. 

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