It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Winter

I had one of those decreasingly rare mornings this morning where I was wide awake at oh-dark-hundred, and opted to use it to be productive.

I scrubbed the guest bathroom, I picked up all of Woodstock's toys upstairs. I did the dishes. I scrubbed the kitchen. I started a pot of beans and peppers and onions, which tonight will become homemade refried beans. I took out the trash, then lugged both the trashcan and the recycling can to the curb for Tuesday pick up.

Then, I scraped the ice off my driveway. It snowed heavily on Saturday and half melted on Sunday, leaving sheets of ice on the driveway that, if not removed by a shovel and then treated with the (envronmentally and cement friendly) ice melt, would last until spring.

I cajoled Himself into doing it yesterday morning, but rather than using the shovel to scrape off the ice, he poured half a bucket of (EXPENSIVE) ice melt on the driveway. Since it didn't actually warm up enough to melt anything yesterday, the ice still lingered this morning.

So, dressed in my polar fleece pants, my long underwear, boots, gloves and waterproof coat, I went out to engage in the only form of physical exercise I'll probably see this month.

I scraped and shoveled and cleaned the entire driveway down. The wet, bare cement glimmered under the red and green motion-sensor lights the neighbor installed. I mentally congratulated myself for starting my week out so well.

And the snow began to fall.

I didn't worry, I had just watched the weather - they promised a mere 1" would graze the valley - just enough to make traffic a bit of a mess. Apparently, either the weatherman predicting the storm didn't actually look outside or it was a cruel trick, because an hour later, when I went to leave the house, the freshy cleaned (and free of ice!) driveway was covered in 4" of snow (which has now become more than 6"), with big, fluffy flakes continuing to fall.

Whether it was because the forecast was off by several inches or because the plow drivers overslept, not a single road during the first 8 miles of my morning commute was either plowed or treated. It might be understandable (although irritating) if I lived on a small street. I do not. I live on a decent-sized secondary street, full of traffic during normal commuting hours. The remaining unplowed streets to work included a 7-lane major east-west thoroghfare and an interstate. Not exactly "little" roads.

No fewer than FOUR snow plows passed me on my way up the long hill at the end of the street leading to the interstate - plows UP. No fewer than three cars spun out in the middle of the unplowed road, necessitating that the cars behind them had to meander into oncoming traffic to get around them. Even the typically ridiculously over-confident 4-wheel drive drivers were creeping along at 15 mph.

There were several near misses as I inched up the hill and along the bench. In the backseat, Woodstock wailed for her "wawy" (water). Failing to produce requested beverage, she began crying for milk. Failing that, she started to sob great hysterical sobs, pleading for her "binty" (binky). In my haste to depart the house, I had forgotten the requisite sippy cup of water which is a routine part of our morning commute together. Woodstock wasn't terribly forgiving. Consequently, I was having a hard time concentrating on driving.

As the snow continued to fall, the roads got worse and the traffic grew more conjested, I tried to drown out the sobbing child in the backseat, focusing instead on the cars in front of me and the road below my tires.

We made it, turning a 9-mile drive into more than an hour's extravaganza of frayed nerves, wailing, slick spots, black ice, and slush up to the undercarriage.

I won't hate you if you pray for snow, but I can assure you, I won't be joining in. In fact, I will be pleading with the powers-that-be for a light winter that only happens on the weekends. Snow is fine if it doesn't require me leaving the house and driving in it - especially DURING the snowfall and especially during either end of my commute. Especially with Woodstock. And especially after I'd spent an hour clearing the driveway BEFORE the snow fell.

I'm just saying ... if you pray for snow, please don't share it.