Mixed Up, Messed Up Girl

I would just like to state that, no matter how much I love winter, snow, and chilly weather, I will never be able to stop hating 'wintry mix.'

Wintry mix. It's such a deceiving phrase - it sounds so innocent and harmless and quaint, like something that should be served at a holiday-themed party. Mini-quiches and christmas-tree-shaped sandwiches on one table, wassail and wintry mix on the next. It should involve Frosted Chex and pretzel sticks and those horrid green candied cherries, not the kind of rain that hardens on your car into a kind of weathery Magic Shell. And it most emphatically does not belong crawling down the neck of my jacket until my shoulders are permanently clenched against my earlobes.

Hello, February. I'm ready for you to be done now.