Back in December I predicted that there would be giant potholes in the road by this time, with partly visible orange warning cones stuck in them. Due to snow and salt and municipal negligence.
Well, shut my mouth and call me a fluffy monkey

fluffy monkey

because I was way off. I haven’t seen snow round these parts since I wrote that, until this morning.

Snow was falling as I trudged past the Pepsi warehouse to the Light Rail station. But it was coming down so apologetically, you almost couldn’t call it snow. More like winter dandruff. I’d have tapped the sky on the shoulder to recommend a good zinc shampoo if I had known where the sky’s shoulder was.