The snow of two days ago, that freak snowstorm that blanketed Seattle in inches of snow in an hour, has turned to the dreaded ice and hard-packed slush. The ugly stepsister of snow: slush, that makes able-bodied people walk like an old woman, tiptoeing in fear of a broken hip, picking our way carefully through each hard-packed slush pile on the way to errands, grocery store.

There is one pristine, barely footprinted half-acre of snow, the half-block where two old, derelict houses stood recently, now razed to the ground, is still beautiful, only a few dog pawprints across it. All other snow has turned to ice and slush. Cars sled across carefully, Seattle drivers can barely drive in rain, cellphones planted firmly to ear, obvlivious to pedestrians, bullying their way through crosswalks, hurrying and rushing them.

I went downtown to do errands today with a friend, we dealt with the usual bus crowd, crackheads singing nasty songs, vulgar and belligerent, pushing and shoving their way in the seats. Everyone is so pretentious and arrogant. If I were God, I'd send a plague down on us all. Good thing I'm not.