One thing that I thought I was getting away from by moving to far-off frozen cold north yankee land was that perennial wintertime peril of Appalachia, the ice storm. Surely up here it would be cold enough during the winter months for precipitation to fall as good, honest snow.
Unfortunately, it appears that the same weather system that is set to dump a cheerful, fluffy foot-and-a-half of snowman ore on Mordor and points east along the Great Lakes is going to leave Greater Indianapolis coated in an inch or so of tree-toppling, powerline-dropping ice. We are not amused.
I'm off to the grocery store to stock up on French toast fixins.