I actually wrote this yesterday and for some reason it is what inspired me to finally get off my unblogged butt and share my view of reality with the world. Welcome to the abyss.
Anyone who knows me well knows I love snow. Snow rocks. When I lived in DE, I was always unhappy when the snow would make it to the C&D canal and not come down to me, which too often seemed the case.
Then we moved north to PA, to the fabled “west of the city” region where the snow was always predicted to fall whenever we longingly watched the local news from our snowless Delaware abode. We got lots of snow the first winter we were here and I was in heaven. I even bought R a snow blower for XMAS the following winter in anticipation of the many storms to come. That was five years ago. He has used it exactly *once*. East, west, north, south (including Middletown, DE, of course) get snow. Significant snow. Who doesn’t get snow? I don’t get snow. No matter where I happen to be and how much is actually predicted to fall where I *am*, where I *am* is the edge of the storm and the snow is jussssst outta reach of my outstretched, welcoming arms. I literally get snowed “around.” Always.
So this morning R and I sipped our morning mugs of the Elixir of Life, gazing hopefully out the window watching what they predict will be the one and only significant snowfall we get this year do its thing outside the bedroom window. A good, solid dusting of snow has already covered our and our neighbors’ rear lawns as far as the eye can see through the multitude of bare trees, bringing the hope, with less than my usual, well-earned dubiousness, of good things to come. At least it’s getting off to a good start and I can’t help but get excited. It’s actually snowing! On MY stuff!
Then I get up to, well… pee.
I walk into the bathroom and look with anticipation out the second story window to the front of the house, expecting to see an even bigger stretch of landscape blanketed in my beloved frosty white. But noooooo. What do I see surrounding me for acres and acres? Brown, barren, ugly dead grass. Mebbe a sort of “frosted’ look here and there, but otherwise absolutely nuttin’. Zilch. Nada. Zippo. Naught.
So it seems, as fate would so elegantly have it, that I have literally arrived on the snow event horizon, *possibly* about to be sucked into the black (white?) hole.