It was raining and dark when I left here this morning and that had transitioned into heavy snow and low visibility by the time I got to work, 45 miles South. My computer was in front of a window, so I noticed that it snowed throughout the morning and by early afternoon I decided to finish up and leave early just because. I hate driving in the snow, but only because I don't do it very well. A few years ago I moved to Northern New Mexico and was thinking that I might want to live there permanently. I found a job and a house in the hills, and it was great until winter. Even a tremendous spring couldn't erase the nightmare that it was. Driving to work was like being on the verge of death for 45 minutes (or five hours, however long it took me that day), with a line of honking, gesturing people behind me. At any other time I wouldn't have tolerated their rudeness but I barely noticed them because I had so many other concerns. It wasn't so much exactly where my lane was, as at exactly what point did the little road abruptly drop into the canyon below. And I didn't have many other options. I hadn't figured out how to use the brakes to stop on an ice covered incline yet, and there were no guardrails, so I was going straight into the water at the bottom of the cliff. In fact, after the first embankment I plunged over, I immediately knew to be very careful and very slow. That winter in the mountains changed me completely. I actively avoid snow and ice covered roads, anywhere, anytime.