High wind. Torrential rain. Searing heat. Snow that just won’t stop coming down. It’s the equivalent of picking the short straw in reporterland.
We groan because it’s not like there isn’t some kind of weather every day, so what’s the big deal, even though we ourselves can’t help but gaze skyward. Recently, though, I find myself obsessed with the weather as we are continually hit with snow, sleet, rain, freezing rain, more snow, more ice, more rain, and now, as I look out the window, more snow.
“Wasn’t it you who was wishing for a white Christmas?” a Facebook friend commented the other day. Yes, that was me. But I was thinking in more finite terms.
My daughter loves the snow days. And I work from home, so it’s not an issue. So far this week we’ve had an early school dismissal and two delayed starts to the school day, today included, because of ice.
I find myself awake now and waiting for the pre-dawn call from the school superintendent, and worrying sick about my husband and his 5 a.m. drive to Providence. Then comes the dreaded bark from dear old dog telling me it’s time to go out and navigate the treachery.
This morning I tried to hold back 100 pounds of desperation to find a snow bank while trying to sprinkle rock salt and try not to do an involuntary split as one boot hit the black ice and took off. Yesterday I strained my arm pushing endless piles of back-breaking slush off the driveway.
Yes, I was entranced weeks ago, as I always am at the beginning of the real winter season. Bring it on! But you know what? It isn’t fun anymore and there are still months to go before spring.