The forecast calls for snow. Immediately, people start joking that there will be a run on bread and milk at the grocery stores. And then, right before the snow starts, there actually is a run on bread and milk at the grocery stores.

Let’s face it. As southerners, either by birth or life’s good fortune, we just don’t know how to feel about winter weather. No offense intended, but when six inches of snow show up on a biannual basis and half of the community rushes out to stockpile two month’s worth of pantry staples, well, the reaction sort of speaks for itself.

And then, just as quickly as the mad dash for toilet paper and ginger snaps commenced, so too will the complaining about local road conditions when the snowfall ends.

We will complain that schools remain closed four days after the storm has ended, just as surely as we will complain the day they reopen that they opened too soon.

We will bundle up our children and travel across the county to play in the snow with friends, and the next day curse our bosses because they expect us to return to work in such treacherous conditions.

Ah, the joys of winter weather in the south. Perhaps God, in his infinite wisdom, knew that snow every other year was about all we could handle.