So I was going to start complaining about the huge winter storm we had on Friday, but there wasn't enough time to get all my work done and blog about it. Before I knew it, it was Saturday, and I had to get up early to get the paper done before our company's Christmas party at 7 p.m.
Four times, we had to scrape the windshield of my car on Saturday, because there was just enough snow coming down to leave a light layer of freezing stuff on the glass. We also realized Saturday that nobody had cleaned the AP satellite dish on the roof, so I had to spend half an hour doing that with an old brush in order for us to have any stories to put in the paper. With an inch or more of snow, the satellite feed goes dead immediately.
The snow kept falling in my face, and little chunks of it made it in between my gloves and jacket sleeves to make my arms wet and cold. Not to mention the snow on top of the roof, which was almost knee-deep and made the legs of my pants wet for hours.
Driving home last night, I called Albie and asked him to move his car from our driveway so I could put mine in the garage. Another storm was expected for Sunday morning.
"It won't be that bad," he said. "There's just going to be an inch or so."
I told him he was wrong, but he wouldn't listen.
"I just don't feel like it," he said.
"That's fine," I replied sweetly, "but you are cleaning off both cars tomorrow after the storm."
Today, after he realized I had been right about the snow, he wasn't happy. But at least neither of us had to go anywhere. Plans to meet up with a friend got cancelled since she is snowed in as well, and I am just happy to celebrate the first day of my vacation at home with a cup of tea and a good book.
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