I know I moved to the wrong country for someone who hates snow so much, but I never knew how much I hated it until I got here and had to live with it.
My first year here. It started snowing on October 15th and it did not quit until early May the next year.
It seemed Austria threw everything at me and told me to sink or climb.
I learned to shovel snow.
I learned to face plant on a slippery, ice covered driveway.
I learned about the world going dark at 4pm and not beginning to light up until 8am.
But the past few years have been relatively mild compared to that first one. And I slowly learned how to drive a stick shift, and then learned how to drive on snow and ice.
I went to work the other day and it had snowed in town. Not such a huge amount. Enough for me to poke my bottom lip out about, but that doesn’t take much anyway.
Later, Peter let me know it had begun snowing at home. Lovely! (not)
Peter, bless his heart, had to shovel the snow out of the drive way for me and then hop in the driver’s seat and take us to the grocery store in the middle of a snow fall.
I am a cruel, cruel woman.
He loves it! Shut up!
The next morning I woke up and the world sounded kind of muffled and quiet and I knew what that meant.
Peter said I should tell him if he needs to shovel the sidewalk or if I need his help.
It took me about 10 seconds to step outside and sink over my ankles in snow and call Peter to help me dig out the car.
He shoveled and I pushed all of the snow off of my car igloo, and I was able to get in and drive to work.
Have I mentioned that I hate snow?