Snow I can handle. Snow I can tolerate. What I cannot handle are the one-of-two attitudes I have to deal with when it snows.
"I'm from the North! Poppycock! This isn't snow! This is a mere dusting, old chap! Why, it's positively balmy out! In fact, I'm walking to work naked! So stop complaining!"
"I'm from the South/a Hispanic country/a tropical Asian country. I'm going to assume that I can drive the same way on snow that I do on dry roads. Here, enjoy me crashing into you."
To avoid both these people, I'm at home where it's safe. I've already lost one car to someone with Attitude #2, and I don't feel like losing another. And Attitude #1 makes we want to murder these people, and send the various body parts back to upstate New York, where they came from.
Meanwhile: I'm freezing. My apartment lacks any heat of any kind, whatsoever. I checked a thermometer we have lying around; it's 55 degrees inside. COLLLLDDDddd-dddd-d. For a fourth straight winter, I'm freezing my ass off.