If there’s weather in hell, I’m betting it comes from the same people who do mine. This past weekend, the Snow Miser from that obnoxious claymation Christmas special dumped something like two feet of snow on the east coast and Midwest. But he was in a hurry, so it pretty much all happened Saturday.

I hate winter.

And I have to be honest and say, I’ve been lucky in this one area of my life. I live to the south and east of two major snow belts, so when a big winter storm comes through those areas, they greedily lap up most and sometimes all of it. Quotas to fill, places to not go.

The long and the short of it is the evil snowstorms tend to step over me like people in the movie theaters with weak bladders. They say excuse me and move on and don’t wreck my day. And I always say, “No problem,” because as long as they toddle off to do their thing, they don’t cause me any problems.

Until last Saturday. Stupid luck running out!

I got up about 8-ish on Saturday morning, ready to lock horns with the manuscript I’m currently working on and hoping a rejection of the book I’m currently querying doesn’t ruin my day. I made breakfast and glanced at Facebook to see if anyone had invited me to anything or posted something that amused me. And several people had posted saying stuff like, “I was surprised there weren’t that many people at the store while I was buying emergency supplies.”

I ignored it and got to authoring. But there was a nagging thing in the back of my head. What if I needed emergency supplies? I never had before, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. So I went to the store. Lots of empty shelves, but I was able to find what I needed. I went home—the roads were much crappier than when I left my house.

I got home. Put the groceries away and now the dogs had to go out. But the snow was too deep for them and … where the hell were my footprints from the car? I shoveled them a restroom path. I did that five times and each one felt like the first. I even backed my car in and out of the driveway a bazillion times because it’s cheaper than the snowplow.

I got up Sunday at about the same time, and there was nothing but a sea of white. No evidence that man even existed. No footprints, tracks, or shoveled canine restroom. There wasn’t even a driveway. Glad I went to the store.

It took two days before someone could dig me out. Two of my plowing options had moved so much snow, their plows actually broke so they couldn’t rescue me. I dug canyon-looking paths for my dogs to walk in.

Today, it rained all day. High in the mid to upper 40s.

Do you know what two-plus feet of snow looks like after a warmish all-day rain?

Like I imagine weather would in hell.

And for the record, I did mention writing, so this blog counts.