All day Thursday of last week, my boss and coworker were glued to the weather. Driving to work that day was a bitch, but we had someone special flying in later that afternoon: Sasha Mallory, the runner-up from Season 8 of “So You Think You Can Dance.” She was to lead a dance workshop we were holding, and she was scheduled to land during some of the worst weather we had seen in years.
Sasha, miraculously, was only an hour later getting in, as her connecting flight in Detroit needed to de-ice the wings, and Friday, the dance event went off without a hitch. (Though it showed the L.A.-girl was we have to deal with in the Midwest — she said she’d only seen snow once before, and it was just a dusting. The night she got in, she went to the field outside her hotel and made snow angels, which absolutely tickles me.)
When her flight out of town left at 6:55 a.m. (guess who had to get up at 4:30 a.m. to get her to the airport? Oh yes, this girl, zzzzzzz), the weather was cold, but not snowy, though we’d been hearing rumors.
Yes, everyone in the Midwest was glued to their weather for what looked to be some of the coldest weather we’d seen in years, and some of the worst snow some of us had ever seen in our lives. A run to Target on Saturday showed me that folks were indeed stocking up, as the milk was nearly gone. Friends on Facebook were posting photos of the Meijer cart coral, which had a lonely cart in it.
When I awoke Sunday, snow had started to fall. I went out mid-afternoon to shovel the driveway, even though it showed no signs of letting up. It was cold, but not bitter, and I got in a few romps in the front yard, even measuring how much had fallen: That’s 10 1/2 inches, in case you can’t tell:
Sunday may have been all beautiful, but Monday? Monday was a shithead. Notice the windchill, if you will:
The nice thing about working for a college? SNOWDAYS. The building closed Monday and Tuesday, which means I didn’t have to dig out of the driveway again until this morning (I’m typing this on Tuesday afternoon), when Jeff’s cough, which had been lingering since New Year’s Day, said it was time to get to the doc. Then, the windchill was at -13, a veritable heatwave by comparison to above. (It’s amazing to think that the difference between -13 and -36 is the same as that between, say, 40 and 63.)
This is all to say, for those of you who had to deal with this crap too, I hope you made it out safe, warm, and frostbitten-free. And for those of you who’ve maybe never seen this kind of freezing … just … bite me.