This is winter?

I'm sitting in my Pittsburgh apartment, after tromping through a heavy rainstorm. And while the sound is a good salve for my burnout, it still gets under my skin. The reason is very simple.

I love snow. If the temperature wasn't in the mid-50s, this would be one sweet blizzard. It would have been worth it to walk through the blinding snow, just for the simple warmth that would wash over me as I stepped into my apartment. I'd make a hot cup of coffee, watch some playoffs, paint a little, and feel the epitome of comfort.

Instead, it's raining. Sure, it's soothing, but the general feeling is nowhere near as poetic as the "snowstorm" version of events. Oh, well.