Flurries

We know ahead of time that it's going to snow. She's excited about it, while all I hear is "cold, ice, and frostbite." We plan to do all our outside activities in the morning since it's supposed to snow in the afternoon. So, of course, the first thing we see the moment we walk outside our hotel is, what? Yeah, that's right: SNOW.

And I don't know what it is, but in that instant when thousand flurries fall all around me, I forget how much I hate the snow. Because snow is awful and freezing and I'm somewhat aware that my face is being frozen and it's getting on my hair, ruining the effort I had put into ironing it, but oh my GOD it's so pretty that I just honestly can NOT care. We spend the whole day walking through snow and I even manage to dance in a good set of it while we attempt to build the saddest, smallest, most lopsided snowman everrr outside a museum.

It's a freezing ass day, but I can't complain because the closest I've come to snow was the slush that we found on the streets of Atlanta when I was a child. It snows for most of the day and as we're riding the Underground to get back home, she points to my points and goes, "What's that??"

Considering that these boots just came in, I should be utterly scandalized. Instead, i shrug it off. I'm still not sure what this stain is, but I can't really care. If these temporary streaks are the price I have to pay to enjoy a day of snow, it's well worth it.