I am such a dunce. Really. We had a massive blizzard yesterday, which started as soon as we began our journey back from north country. Got home and promptly ran to the grocery store to pick up, well, everything because we live like frat boys and perpetually have nothing in the house, and snuggled in for a long winter's night (sans kerchief, I'm afraid).
This morning, I call the emergency service line at work, which announces that, despite blizzard warnings, the office is open. Defeated, I go about my morning routine foolishly thinking that if I leave a few minutes early, I'll be fine. Remind you, this is early morning and I am entirely sober: what the hell was I thinking? To make matters more ridiculous, I opine, "Don't forget to bust out your knee-high snow boots...oh, and you should wear a skirt to make sure your pants don't get wet." Right - we were beaten with snow and I think that the trusty "7" train, which ceases to run with the slightest hint of precipitation, will safely get me to work. And that a skirt (an article I rarely wear) is an excellent garment, ideal for hurdling snow drifts.
I head outside and *holy crap* there is snow everywhere. I manage to waddle down the street to see the "7" train creeping along the tracks. SWEET - the train is running! By the time I ascend the stairs, which incidentally have not been cleared, and learn from the 50+ people huddled together that there is no Manhattan-bound service and the Flushing-bound side is equally sketchy. So much for NY1 broadcasters, who announced all morning that the "7" was the only line not experiencing difficulty. Ah, the media: long on opinion, yet short on fact.
I waddle back down to ground level and walk headlong up Queens Blvd. (a.k.a. The Boulevard of Death), as the sidewalks are unnavigable. Waiting in the excessively long line yields no results: no buses and no cabs, just relentless wind. I abandon all heroics and stagger home, but not without neighborly assistance: a young man literally gives me a hand traversing the snow mound, and a neighboring Super braces herself on an iron fence while hurling me over the mound she is in the midst of shoveling. The Christmas spirit reigns in Sunnyside, Queens.
So, it's been a snow day. Or I'll be fired. We'll see.