Welcome to Augusta Georgia. Home of the Masters.
You may have moved here from warmer environs, but since we are here in Augusta Georgia, Home of the Masters, chances are you did (could) not. So it stands to reason you moved here from perhaps a cooler area of the country. We welcome you. Please buy a house and spend lots of your dollars here.
Now let us bring you up to speed on a particular slice of southern culture. When it snows, we lose our (insert favorite vulgarity here) minds. You may have noticed the grocery stores are now out of milk. Apparently if there is a chance of coldish precipitation, we feel the need to have copious amounts of milk available.
Also we shut it down. IT DOWN. The town. We shut it down. We exhibit the same demeanor as senior citizens who have been dropped off on the surface of the moon. What is this strange land? How does one move about? Will we ever be home again? Unfortunately, there is no meter to this behavior. From a light dusting of sawdust like powder to a foot of ice, we are unable to figure it out.
Therefore you will find errrrrthing closed on Wednesday and probably Thursday. Yaks and Sherpa will wander the land, seeking refuge from the inches of melting snow. If you are able to find a Circle K open, be prepared for a run on Bud Light you have never encountered before.
If aliens ever decide to take over the southern United States of America, you can bet the farm the first indication will be a feathery pillow of snow.
The cunning bastards.