We're all a little sad in my neck of the woods. Jeepers, Wally, it's the Sunday before Christmas and there isn't any snow. Okay, I'm not sad a little sad; I'm not sad at all. Since I'm being honest, may as well do the Full Monty. Snow is just about my least favorite vegetable. Born-Again Rastafarian Country and Western singers are my absolute least favorite. Snow (on occasion) can have an amusement value similar to the Republican Party unless you track it into the house and then brace for a 'why didn't you wipe your feet?' harangue you richly deserve, on both accounts.
I didn't always dislike snow-I suspect right around the time I was considered old enough to go out and shovel it I developed antipathy towards it. That and spending thirteen months north of the Arctic Circle in Greenland in the middle Seventies where there was seven feet of it on the ground when we got there, in September. Yeah, that might've had something to do with my feelings towards snow, come to think of it.
Getting a snow blower three or maybe four years ago did nothing to improve my feelings about the white stuff. If the snow blower had come with an attachment that pushed the thing around all by itself, and then muscled the device back under the steps or into the garage from whence it originated maybe; but it didn't, so not so much.
Faced with another 'green Christmas' I, too, make all those 'well, global warming is finally working in my favor' jokes and practice wearing my long face lest any of my neighbors suspect anything. Unless, of course, they, too do the very same thing which I hadn't actually considered until just now at this keyboard.
Those sneaks! I am outraged! Stung to the quick not so much that they'd pull a stunt like that but that it would take me this long to catch on, assuming they did pull it off and I am catching on and sometimes I'm not too sure of either of those assumptions/assertions.
I do know that stores are open late today and gift cards are regarded (usually by retail outlets issuing them) as the perfect gift but remember, too, a gift card tells the recipient 'this is exactly how much I think of you.' I think my work here is done for today. Frohe Weinachten, y'all (that's for all the southern Germans, a/k/a Bavarians).