We got more damned snow. But only a couple of inches.

My mother texted me a day or so after the second large snowstorm because "your aunt is demanding a wellness check."

People in Louisiana don't really understand the idea of snow preparedness, because they get a light dusting of snow about once every three years, at most. Theirs is a part of the world where highway signs say BRIDGE MAY ICE IN COLD WEATHER because that's the only place a driver might ever encounter an icy road. (In the upper midwest, the equivalent sign says BRIDGES FREEZE FIRST. In Greater Boston we don't believe in signs. We don't even label our streets properly.)

They figure our pipes have all burst, because they don't know that houses here have precautions against that, and they figure with that much snow on the ground everyone's trapped in their homes for days, because there are no snowplows in Louisiana.

The other side of that is that they still think snow is kind of charming and fun and picturesque, because they never never have to shovel it or try to walk to the store across it. And because they've never seen what it looks like after it sits around for a week collecting dirt and mud because the weather's too cold for it to melt.

Snow is a pain in the ass.

I still wouldn't ever live in Louisiana again.