This is the second time it has snowed this week. Personally, I fully believed the weather man on Monday when he said it would snow that night and in to Tuesday. I went down to Columbia Ford and they were surprisingly tolerant of my request to put snow chains on my favorite boots. I clomped back home, filled the car with windshield wiper fluid, and waited for the snow.
Over on Facebook, one of my high school friends complained that her children hadn't been able to try out their new snowsuits yet. I began to reflect on how nice it would be to be able to actually reach in through a computer screen and throttle someone. I tried it a few times, but just kept bruising my fingertips. Eventually, I just suggested to her that she bundle up the kids and take them to the freezer section of Stop & Shop. She 'unfriended' me an hour later.
Well, the snow did come. I used my new boot chains to stamp my way to the car (which Jason had cleaned off for me—hooray!) and drive to work. I smugly used my newly-filled windshield wiper fluid to clear off the glass, which promptly left a giant smear right in my line of vision. I'm not sure why that happens every time it's cold out, but it always seems to happen on the driver's side of the window. I crouched down to see through the one clear spot right above the dashboard, and made my way down the road. It took me three hours to travel twelve miles, but I made it to work right in time for lunch.
Jason called me when I arrived. He'd been in an accident on the way to work, and the car was in bad shape (luckily, he was fine). From the way the guys at the body shop were pointing at him and laughing, he expected it to be totaled. Just for the record: that is one death in the family, one three-week-long sinus infection, and now one car accident so far for 2012.
Which is why I am perfectly content to stay in bed this morning and listen for snowplows. Unless Paula Deen is standing outside in my driveway with her fingers frozen around a giant chocolate mousse cake, I'm not cracking the front door open until I see some daffodils popping up.
See you in the spring!