Tuesday, February 26, 2013
SLICE OF LIFE
Even so, I adjusted my weekend plans, just a little. My mom's birthday was Sunday. She lives about 75 miles south of me. And there's a stretch of road that's notoriously bad between her house and mine. If we were going to have a blizzard I didn't want to be on that road. My sister and I moved our dinner to Saturday night at 6:30. And then moved it again to 5:00, so I could make it back to Denver before the storm started.
I arrived home about 10:00. And it was just starting to spit. A little. I set the alarm to get up for early church. And wake up, at 6 on Sunday morning to a blizzard. Six inches of snow. Lots more falling. Wind. I declared a snow day and went back to bed.
Now I know some people view a snow day as an opportunity to be super productive. They make lesson plans for three weeks. Organize their taxes. Catch up on their filing. Still others take the domestic approach to snow days. They catch on laundry. Bake cookies. Make soup or chili. Others have family days. Those people make memories. They build snowmen. Play endless games of monopoly. Have movie marathons.
I didn't do any of those things. Instead, I made coffee and read the newspaper. Then I shoveled. Then I tried to explain to my less-than-charming teen cellmate that I was not personally responsible for the blizzard, nor was I willing to call his girlfriend's parents and convince them to drive her 20 miles across town to our house for the afternoon. Then I thought about responding to eighth grade essays. And then I shoveled some more. And watched the Great Dane puppies on www.explore.org. And thought about responding to eighth grade essays. And then I shoveled some more. And every once in a while I checked to see if we were going to have an official snow day on Monday.
About 5:00 I decided the chances of a snow day were slim to none. And that I might need to have my schoolwork done. So I made meatloaf. And did a couple of loads of laundry. And checked the website to see if we were going to have a snow day. And looked at the site for best dressed Academy Awards. And shovelled and brushed off the car.
And then I responded to the eighth grade essays.