I used to love when it snowed. The added inconvenience was worth it for the feeling that adventure and mystery had brushed the world and left a snowscape.
Not so much, now. I'm reduced to a near crawl by even light snow, and I'm pretty fed up with being the slowest guy around. Today, I am sick of the effort, conscious effort, it takes to even stand up without falling over or holding on to something.
All around are the able, regular people who can just stand idly with no thought. After more than two years it is hard not to hate them all. Harder still not to hate myself for a brain that is damaged, a body that won't respond or the indolent life that lead to a slow death.
Perhaps it's just the time of year, and I should go live by a beach.