Snow is wonderful in small doses.

It’s nice to watch it fall and camouflage everything in sight under the same pure, clean shade of white.

It’s nice because there’s no thunder or constant, relentless dripping from the roof or pounding, angry droplets rattling the windows. Even at its worst, snow is silent and peaceful and serene.

It’s nice to look out the window and see your boyfriend playing with dogs in the backyard as a thick, puffy white powder gently blankets them all.

It’s nice to brush the melting flakes out of his hair when he comes back inside and to see his black coat specked with white dots that aren’t dandruff.

It’s nice to have a white Christmas.

It’s nice to be at someone else’s house when it snows, somewhere you don’t have to shovel the driveway or navigate a slippery highway to work during an icy morning commute. It’s nice just to stay warm inside and watch the snow fall and make the whole world a little bit prettier.

It’s nice to visit a place where it snows, just for a few short days, and to know that, soon enough, you’ll be going back to a sunny wonderland where it never snows and the weather is always warm and cozy and perfect.

This, on the other hand, fucking sucks.

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