Whatever happens, happens. It’s March. We move on if need be.
We’re at 80 hours out, teetering on the fence. Given seasonal trends, keep expectations low.
‘Merica #1!
My older sister used to call Friday night snowstorms “cozy” storms. We’d all watch TGIF, eat crinkle fries, drink hot chocolate, play Nintendo, and lay out our stuff to go sledding in the morning. Those were the days.
This is the type of winter when I need to see 24” on the clowns to realize 4”. Otherwise, it’s a nonevent. Some winters just have rotten personalities. This is one of them.