Like a third-grader speculating about future Christmas presents, I checked the weather forecast incessantly in order to calculate the odds of having class Tuesday morning. The Accuweather and Weather Channel hourly forecast feeds became mainstays as tabs in my browser. I had to know the moment my chances of frozen greatness were increasing. The first email came during my Spanish class on Monday- classes canceled from 2pm until 11am Tuesday. For the first time ever I cursed my Tuesday/Thursday-heavy schedule; the cancellations brought no respite from the world class education I am fortunate to receive everyday. After regaining composure I reasoned that Tuesday class would almost certainly be canceled if a portion of Monday’s had been, despite no flakes in view yet. With great tranquility I went about the rest of the day and opted not to write the essay that was due Tuesday. I knew deep down that even the mighty Chancellor Folt would inevitably bow to Mother Nature. Down came the ice, snow, and freezing rain as I rejoiced from my bed. When the particularly wet precipitation subsided, swarms of first-years and upperclassmen alike took to the hilly parts of campus. Skipper Bowles Drive became a four-lane race track occupied by anything but conventional sleds. Students everywhere shouted with excitement. The snow gave us instant entertainment, more days to study for our midterms, and something that we could all rally around together. After hours of fun in the winter weather I returned to my room and prepared to go to sleep. I set my alarm for 6am so I would be awake early to check my email. Not even entertaining the possibility of Tuesday class at this point, I was simply eager to glut in the serenity of an Alert Carolina weather update. I was Roy Williams, inserting Blue Steel to a blowout that was minutes away from becoming a victory. When I awoke, there was no such update to be found. Flabbergasted, I fell to my knees as the gravity of the situation hit me. I had no choice but to try and finish my essay. My mind running in a thousand directions, I furiously typed away with utter nonsense in order to make the minimum page requirement by class time. The hours to write waned and I felt increasingly desperate, until the familiar chime of a new email in my inbox stopped my typing at once. I received a number of false alarms earlier in the morning, but something about this email felt promising. While holding my breath I opened my inbox. Class canceled until Wednesday at 8am. I shrieked and fist pumped like Tiger Woods after holing a chip shot. Snow had done it again, and boy did it feel good.