Impending deadlines aside, wth a “winter storm warning” in effect from the wee hours of tomorrow morning until midnight tomorrow night, my first instinct was to rush to the store earlier today.
Like a football player with the ball tucked securely in the crux of his elbow as he dives over a mass of bodies huddled on the one yard line, I threw myself into the crowd fighting for the last cart.
Elbowing my way around the greedy shoppers, protecting my kitchy clutch like a coveted game ball, I made a beeline for their well-stocked supply of, you guessed it – chocolate, while the others scurried through the aisles, stocking up on carb-rich supplies like bread and beer (liquid bread, really).
As I approached the mob at the checkout line, the harried cashier took one look at my measly purchase and pointed to the end of the line located back by the freezer section. After several minutes of enduring the glare of other parents, their carts overflowing with enough food to last them through Memorial Day, I thought it best to blend and threw some milk and eggs in my cart for good measure.
Two hours later, I arrived home with my stash.
Was it worth it? Let me put it this way – there is no way, on God’s white Earth, that I am going to weather this snowflake tsunami without a little cold cocoa comfort.
My boys, on the other hand, displayed a different reaction entirely. As soon as they heard rumor of the meteorological warning, they crossed their fingers and toes, hoping that school is cancelled tomorrow.
For the record, this plate-spinning telecommuter has mixed feelings about snow days.
On one hand, a day off for the boys means that I don’t have to worry about making lunches and getting them to and fro. I could focus on my work. The only interruption in my day would be shouting out rosters for the shoveling shifts.
On the other hand, I’d have to field the inevitable requests to help with boots and snow pants, dole out hot chocolate, and ensure that they spend at least some of their new-found freedom on studying at least a little bit and practicing their instruments.
My personal opinions aside, every single weather authority agrees that we are in for a winter wonderland version of Armageddon.
So confident am I in their forecasts that I don’t even plan to set my alarm. I just know that I’ll be awoken by the velvety voice of our school district’s superintendent, informing me of the cancellation.
Now if I could just get him to keep a door unlocked for me at one of the schools so I could sneak in and get my work done there…I’d even give him some of my chocolate.