It was barely snowing when I went to the New Year's party at my friends' house, but there was close to an inch on the ground for my drive home.
I saw a car that looked like it had slid off the road into the median thing (on a freeway), but by the time my brain processed the lights in an unexpected place, I couldn't safely stop, so I went home and called 911.
It's the first time I've ever called 911. Happy New Year. I hope the people in the car are okay.
Then I dug out my drive because three inches in the morning is a lot easier than four, right? That's my theory, anyway. I'd rather dig twice, especially when it's wet and heavy as this is. It's also the wet and heavy that sticks beautifully to tree branches and such.
Happy New Year!
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