Yeesh. As I mentioned, we've had a wee bit o' snow yesterday. I thoroughly enjoyed holding my mug of hot chocolate and staring out the window at the whirly swirly flakes.
This morning, however, I was singing a different tune. I was singing the tune of "uh-oh, I have to drive to work somehow." It goes something like this...
You see, last year when this happened, Nick dug his way up our driveway so I could go to work. But remember how Nick is in Texas right now? Hmph. What a pickle. So I put on lots and lots of clothes (including two pairs of socks) and shoveled/hoed my way up the drive this morning. (Digression: Am I the only person in my neighborhood who still had to go to work today? There wasn't another soul out shovelling with me.) Anyhoo, this shovelling process took a long, long time. But not nearly as long, however, as actually driving to work. My usual twenty-minute commute took (any guesses? anyone?)... an hour and a half! And I counted 7 wrecked cars in the ditch between my house and the main road. Seven! And of course the highway was packed with backed-up big rigs. I finally rolled into work around 9:30 and was quite miffed that no one else was ready to be righteously indignant over my ordeal with me. So I had to be righteously indignant all by myself.
Jack Frost may think he's so clever, zinging me two years running. But I'll show him. I'm gonna move to Houston, where it's gonna be a temperate 70 degrees tomorow. Take that, Jack!
No comments:
Post a Comment