People who live in The North tend to rationalize, "I love the seasons, I wouldn't give up the snow for anything." You know, there IS a novelty to that first snow fall of the year, especially if there hasn't been a good one in a couple of years, and that first vroom, vroom of the snowblower releases a SHOT of testosterone that rivals any drug.
Well, after the many and deep snows of last year and now this year, the novelty has worn off. I can't even rationalize any more. I'm all defense-mechanismed out.
But it can be pretty:
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