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The Long Winter It's my favorite time of year. (No, not Christmas. That's really my favorite time of year. I'm being sarcastic, or something. Play along, okay?) We're supposed to get a lot of snow, starting in the pre-dawn hours and continuing until God knows when. The news is filled with this news...they've got reporters staked out across the state and they keep "interviewing" them, asking really exciting questions like: Any sign of snow yet? and Do people look prepared? And they have exciting shots of things like salt trucks filled with salt and people scurrying in and out of grocery stores. They interview "people on the street" about how they're going to handle the snow? And do they think they'll be going to work tomorrow? What about school? What will their children do? The grocery stores are filled with people stocking up on "necessities," like milk and nine loaves of bread and biggie size bags of Cooler Ranch Doritos (those poor Cool Ranch Doritos, banished to the nerd table in the cafeteria) and four half-gallons of Breyers. Not to mention the jumbo size jugs of laundry detergent, the six boxes of Hot Pockets, and the ribeye roast large enough to serve at a church supper. Because, you know, storm's a comin'. The trains won't be able to get through until the spring thaw! There will never be milk and eggs again! How on earth am I expected to get through twenty-four hours, shut up in my house with just Greg and our fifty+ DVDs, 4,000 cds, 1000+ books, a paper to finish, presents to wrap, and all the food we already had? I mean, really - it's twenty-four hours. Never you mind that the roads are being continually plowed, that we have a snowblower and two shovels and a pair of feet each. Never you mind that we have full power and a working telephone - I must have nine loaves of bread to survive this first "blizzard." My one big regret is that I didn't go to the grocery store myself last night. Boy, do I love to watch the last minute snow scramble for those "necessities." I wonder if anyone has ever pointed out to these people that we do, after all, live in the Northeast? This isn't Brownsville, Texas. It has, contrary to popular belief or memory, snowed here before. More than once, even! Sheesh. |