I don’t like the cold. At all. (And before I get remarks on my California weather wussiness [I'm looking at you, Kathi ], 43 degrees and raining IS cold when you’re born and raised in a place where 68 is the average temperature for the entire year. 79 is the average high, and 50 is the average low. I’m totally not making that up. I have proof!) I realize that being cold is easier to deal with than being warm, as you can keep piling on layers until you’ve reached your own personal tolerable temperature. But being cold hurts. It makes my joints and muscles ache. I’d much rather be hot and spend half my existence in the nearest body of water. But that’s just me. (And if you live in a normally cold area, I’ll let it slide when you complain about the heat. At 70 degrees.)

This is the view from the entrance to my office. It freaking snowed last night. Those mountains are just on the other side of the freeway from me, and are the same mountains that were on fire last October.

I’ve never seen snow so low. I’m told by coworkers that it was snowing on them on the drive home, which is absolutely unheard of in my area. Now if you go maybe 30 minutes north of us, it’s not quite as uncommon. But here? Not so much.

So now I get to whine about the cold. Because it SNOWED here. Granted, the snow hasn’t actually touched my person, but still, it’s close!