Leave it to weather to snow like mad for the weeks leading up to Christmas, only to flip a switch, send temperatures into the 50s, and have it rain.
It's almost like weather is a larger-than-life phenomenon that we cannot even hope to accurately predict.
In a way, I'm happy for the rain. There are few things as foolhardy as owning a white car in the middle of winter, and I appreciate the rain washing away the layers of filth and dirt and salt (which, interestingly enough, has made my car look a proper shade of gray. One might even say 50 shades. One might. But I wouldn't. Because that book is crap).
Plus, I am from New England. New England prides itself on making sure there isn't a white Christmas. We could have an absolute blizzard on Halloween, only to watch it melt just days before Christmas. Weather is unpredictable, and hoping for a white Christmas is a lot like hoping that you'll catch a double rainbow every Friday morning.
All I know is that I'm happy we didn't deal with any snow on our drive. Last year, it snowed just in time for Christmas. Which meant flights were grounded, delayed, canceled -- and our drive through Pennsylvania was hair-raising the say the least. So, as nice as a white Christmas is, I'll take a wet one over a hellish holiday commute.
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