Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Storm Diary, part 1.

March 13, 3:45 pm: The sun is shining, the temp is a delightful and seasonal 31. The leftover snow from the last storm, which barely merited shoveling, is passing into mud. A few clouds, but just the scrim over the sky; nothing would indicate to the casual viewer that the snowfall that will end civilization will be slamming us in a few short hours. I know how that guy felt, the one who wouldn’t leave his home on Mount St. Helens back in 1980. Harry Randall Truman was his name, and he was determined to stay. 

His remains have never been found. 

Oh, well. He was 83. It’s a safe bet he’d be dead by now. People don’t generally live to 120. 

6:51 pm: Outside with little dog. Sure is nice to have sunlight at sevenish. Just finger clouds brushing over the sky. No sign here of a blizzard—we’ve been upgraded from a winter storm warning to a blizzard warning—but there was five hours ago at the supermarket. I foolishly forgot red onions for a dish I’m making Tuesday, so I popped into the ol' market to get it. Madhouse. Ten deep at the self-checkout 15-items-or-less line. Rumors that another market had completely run dry of milk. What is this, Venezuela? 

8:37 pm: Outside with big dog. Still see stars through the cloud cover. Snow is supposed to be less than four hours away. They’re sticking with the 24-inch forecast, with 2-4 falling per hour Tuesday morning. Is it devastating other places right now, an inexorable Mongol-like march toward my little house? 

8:47 pm: Tomorrow is trash day. Will they try to pick it up? I hate when they miss a day. Worse since I have a barrel in the back that is kind of the dog version of the Diaper Genie, if you get my drift. Let’s check the town Web site to see if there’s a notice about that… It says all town offices will be closed, but the trash guys are independent contractors. Okay, I have no idea. I expect I will be dragging a trash can up the snowy driveway at six in the morning so that it can be buried in the snow and thrown over by snowplows. Or I can leave the can in the garage and wave as the trash collectors go by. No matter which route I follow, I expect to be wrong. 

9:31 pm: Everybody’s tired. Big dog got groomed today, which he hates, and little dog was upset that big dog was gone and wouldn’t nap. We worked, but I think there’s a real sense that we’d better be well rested for whatever Tuesday is going to throw at us. Schools will be closed, stores, most workplaces. Of course, I work from home, so I’m going to have to work anyway, in between bouts of shoveling. Going to bed early. Flakes fallen thus far: 0.

9:57 pm: Took the boys out on one last pee run. No stars visible at all, no moon. Dum dum DUUUMMM….

March 14, 4:10 am: It’s true what they say—when you get older, pulling an all-nighter means you slept through the night without having to use the can. When I got up I peeked out the blinds. White as an SJW’s worst nightmare out there. Hoo boy.

6:00 am: Outside with the lads. About four inches of snow already. They’re going crazy. So am I, but in a bad way. Shoveling the walk; got to do it several times, rather than wait until the storm is over. Do not want to wind up like one of those guys who goes out with his jolly shovel to face two feet of snow and has a coronary. The walkway isn’t that long, but by the time I get to the end of it the beginning is covered again. Glad I didn’t take out the trash; the neighbor who did last night has quietly retrieved his can.

6:58 am: This storm will continue until nine tonight, when blustery winds start up to blow all the snow back on the places we’ve cleared. My wife says it stretches back to Canton, out to Boston, up to Ottawa, down to Cuba. I see the Weather Channel is not giving up on its stupid idea to name snow storms; this one is Stella. I guess so we can all stand around and scream at it like Stanley Kowalski. I hate the Weather Channel, and at the moment I’m not too wild about weather itself. 

What will happen in part two of Storm Diary? Will our hero have a coronary? Will the dogs drive him insane? Will his house collapse under the weight of the snow? Tune in tomorrow!

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