Friday night snowfall

And here I thought it was going to be a boring walk to the 7-11.

Situation: 2 AM, I'm slightly hungry and feel like a walk. Obvious choice is to achieve both, and visit the local commodity pushers at the best time there is to shop overpriced groceries; night-time style.

It never even struck me to look out the window and check how things were looking. Much greater the surprise when walking out the door, and finding a fine layer of snow on the sidewalk.

Of course, a spectacle so beautiful as such deserves my full attention; for just about the time it took for me to simultaneously trip over a tipped-over bike, and subsequently note that someone had already celebrated the snowfall by sacrificing their stomach's contents all over said sidewalk.

Did I mention I live in the 'hood? Chances are 50/50 that it's either high-school, Bacardi Breezer teenage-vomit, or some wretched husk of a human being whose life has slipped through the cracks in every conceivable way who regurtitated the same place mothers take their children to school on mornings.

I guess there's a cloud to every silver lining.

Even that wasn't enough to take away the moment of magic, standing there with snow already melting through my rather leaky shoes. Just a moment of quiet, and of something as cliché as beauty.

The rest of the walk was less memorable, high point probably being the arguably least edible hotdog I have had the misfortune of chomping down on, and my now somewhat soaked socks.

Looking out the window now, I see shades of white illuminated by that sickly iodine lighting from the street lamps. I've missed snow. I'll hate it in the morning when it sloshes around my boots, and I'll hate it when the snow melts, then re-freezes and turns into caps of ice I can slip on and fracture my spine on. Until then, though, I'll enjoy the aesthetics of it.

Also...for that moment of self-appreciation, I look fucking good with snow in my hair. Harrharr.

Yay for self-appreciation. It beats the McEmo times by a good deal.