I stepped out of my apartment’s front door and into a snowdrift that crept awfully close to my waist.

More than two feet of snowfall — drifts much higher. My driveway looks like an alien landscape, a smooth white surface peppered with pine needles and small branches.

(This is funny, as our landlords informed us THIS MORNING that they don’t have a contracted snow removal service, which means we’re going to be shoveling all day long…)

The roads are nasty, I’ve a hot date with my shovel beckoning and I won’t be able to make my getaway to Boston.

And you wonder why I don’t like winter?