Monday, March 2, 2009

“Storms never last/do they, baby?”

Shortly after 2:00pm yesterday, I sauntered out to the kitchen with the intention of frying up a little Oscar-Meyer in a pan and partaking of a fried bologna sandwich. As I walked by one of the windows in the living room, I looked out and noticed a white substance collecting on the tops of the shrubbery that surrounds the house.

“Son of a…” I said to no one in particular. “Could that be…?”

I called Mom and she confirmed that, yes, we were getting steady snow flurries. “Your sister is outside taking pictures of it.”

Mom was pretty psyched by the white stuff, but my love affair with frozen precipitation ended about the time I cleared off my 1,000th sidewalk/driveway. According to John Larroquette’s Dan Fielding on Night Court, snow can be summed up thusly: “It’s cold. It’s wet. Little kids eat it.”

It also has a tendency to wreak havoc on power lines, for no sooner did I get off the phone with Mom the power went out…and I said a few choice words that I’ll keep to myself in case your kids are reading this. It looked like I’d have to eat that bologna raw when a little after three, the power returned. So I fried up the lunchmeat tuit suite, slapped it on a Kaiser roll with some spicy mustard and took it back to the computer, where I had been catching up on reading some of my favorite blogs. The power then went off again…and stayed off, putting an end to any blogging of my own. It did not return until a little after 6pm this evening.

Because I hail from West Virginia (state motto: Montani Semper Intoxicati) I don’t usually get freaked out by snow—but since I now reside in a state where snow is a foreign substance to its residents, I’m just glad I didn’t have to drive out in it this morning. I don’t know what time I woke up this morning (no power—no clock) but I amused myself watching a few cars trying to take the hilly street adjacent to Rancho Yesteryear…and failing miserably in the process. You really didn’t have to look outside to imagine what was happening: you’d hear gears grinding, tires squealing…and then you’d shake your head and mutter, “Dude, if you don’t have any snow tires or chains you’re going to be fooling around up and down that hill all day until somebody slaps some salt on it.”

With the power out, Castle Yesteryear became the most boring place on the planet. I couldn’t get online, couldn’t watch TV, couldn’t watch a DVD…couldn’t even cook anything (I got by on Pop Tarts and peanut butter crackers) or call to order sustenance. When it was finally restored, I called the ‘rents to make sure they were okay and they’re having the time of their lives; my father is bragging “Yeah, we just used the grill this morning to make pancakes and bacon—we’re planning on cooking on it again tonight!”

Well, at least my power came back on first. You can’t take that away from me.


Linda said...

This is why the good Lord made gas stoves and books. LOL. I lived in an apartment with an electric stove for three years. I would rather have a sinus headache than deal with an electric stove. Ugh.

HouseT said...

Boooo! The conditions were perfect for snow here, and it didn't make it. The only explanation is that you stole my snow. Give me back my snow, you... frosty thief!

And really, all it took for me to get over the novlty of snow was to spend a few months in North Virginia working with the railroad. Oddly enough, almost everything in Roanoke closes if it snows heavily enough. Want to guess the one thing that doesn't? Toot toot!

Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. said...

In talking with my Dad today, I learned that he had put mail out in the box to go out and the USPS never came by to deliver or pick-up. So much for that whole "rain nor snow nor sleet nor hail shall stay these couriers" horse shit.