This is probably a chicken's dream: no eggs.
It has been 48 hours since the snow tapered off, leaving us with approximately two feet on the ground. Frighteningly, the Weather Channel is calling for an additional 10-20″ of fresh powder tomorrow.
Yes, this the same girl who was jumping out of her skin at the initial forecast of 24 inches, so you might be asking yourself, “What has changed?” Well, I’ll tell you what has changed.
For starters, I’ve attempted to drive in this mess. DC has done a fairly impressive job moving snow out of the downtown area, but I don’t think my street has seen a plow yet. Tonight, coming home from work, even topping out at 5 mph I almost took out a line of cars by fishtailing.
Once I *did* get to my place, parking was a whole different beast. No one – and I mean NO ONE – is moving their cars. As a result, there are no spaces available, and those that ARE open, where no one has parked since the blizzard, are filled with three feet of snow and impossible to enter.
I ended up stashing my car illegally in front of an embassy in a space reserved for diplomats. (It’s the Argentinian Embassy, so I can only assume they won’t be venturing out in the snow since this should be their SUMMER, and thus won’t have me towed.)
You probably want to know why I’m even bothering to drive. “Doesn’t she live within walking distance to her office?” I can hear you asking. (Or maybe you aren’t, but I’ll tell you anyway.)
Well, yes, I can walk to my office if I’m leaving from my house. But if I’m leaving from my boyfriend’s place in Arlington, I kind of need a car. And honestly, this morning I didn’t think I would even need a car from his place, because my plan was to grab a cab to National Airport to catch my 8am flight. Alas, my flight was canceled, which put my day into a tailspin.
Instead of heading to the airport at 6:30 am, I instead found myself driving 395N (on the one lane where I could actually see glimpses of cement rather than snow) at 10am to make it to my office to video conference with my Chicago team in lieu of visiting them. So at the end of the day, I had a suitcase, a backpack and no good walking shoes to get myself home. Thus, I decided to drive.
When I got home, I was greeted by a towering pile of crap in my living room. (Not literally feces, mind you. Just a bunch of STUFF.) See, I’d cleverly planned to have my place professionally painted this week while I was in Chicago, so before leaving home yesterday (for what I thought would be a week), I took all of my art off the walls, cleared my mantle and kitchen counters and left the place ready for the paint crew. Except, now with this weather, we’ve had to push it back a week, so my place just looks depressing and cluttered.
Brats or a family pack of bacon? Either way, your protein comes from a pig this week.
Hungry, I ventured across the street to Safeway. Well, actually I was down to one roll of toilet paper, so I’d say my overwhelming emotion was concern, not hunger. When I walked into Safeway, I was shocked. Since Thursday, there have been long lines snaking to the back of the store. I laughed but never really thought about the place’s supplies being depleted… until I started looking for things to put in my cart.
Fortunately, I’m something of a frozen food connoisseur, so with a little foraging I was able to line up a fine dinner of mushroom ravioli and texas toast, with a side of TGIFriday potato skins thrown in the cart for breakfast. (Jealous?)
The only thing I truly needed that I couldn’t find was toilet paper. Let me repeat that:
The ONLY thing I truly needed that I couldn’t find was toilet paper.
I’ve always mocked people who run out and stock up on TP whenever snow is forecast, but now I understand the concern. I’m heading into another 20″ forecast with a partial roll of toilet paper at my disposal. This is NOT what – in sales – we call a “power position.” Nor is it honoring the Boy Scouts motto to always be prepared.
What it IS doing is something entirely more curious: it’s forcing me to forecast my toilet paper usage. So as I flip on the radio and hear the meteorologist getting all worked up about the pending snow, my palms start to sweat for entirely different reasons. While he may forecast our snowfall in inches, I’m guessing I’ll be measuring it in squares. Of the two-ply variety.
pithypants 
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