snowed in

As of this morning, we have two feet of snow. Drifting snow added a third foot to the snow around and on top of my car. Fortunately, I have a friend staying with me who decided to wake up extra early and burn off last night's calories by digging out my car and driveway! Sweet, smart girl. We both grew up in Arctic Frozen Tundras and thus know how to appropriately prepare for a snow day. Bread and milk? Pffft. That's what the amateurs do. How about herbalicious crackers, brie, and Ketel One? Oooh, and plenty of trashy television you're too embarassed to admit you enjoy?

It's just a little too much snow for me. Even Jack, who was ecstatic over the first foot, was decidely less enthused about doing his business in all that powder. Pansy. Coco gives me pathetic, heart-rending Big Eyes when I plop her keister outside. The roads are a mess as the entire Mid-Atlantic region eschews plows. Seriously. I'm at a total loss to explain this. All I know is that I lived in central NY state for a year, perched on top of a steep hill...and never missed a single day. Not even when it snowed in May.

I also miss living smack dab in the middle of the city...right now I'm about 5-10 minutes away. 10 minutes on a clear day, that is. I wanted to be sure the apartments were shoveled out and had to venture out. Fortunately, I actually know how to drive in the snow. Slow down. No driving on unplowed roads unless you know your car can clear it. Clear off the vehicle's roof. Slow down. No passing unless absolutely necessary. Slow down. Little lessons someone neglected to teach Philly drivers. I mean, where the heck do these people think they're going at 11am on a Sunday? And do they really think I'm just stopped because I'm, you know, hanging out, and not because, oh, the guy in front of me is stalled because he took his tiny little sedan for a spin?

Unfortunately, one has to be exceedingly polite when there is a not-insignificant statistical likelihood that the driver honking at you (1) carries and (2) has a temper. I'm all for (1), but (1) + (2)? No, no.

In the meantime, I haven't sent out a single card. The number of wipe-outs (and number of sexxxy bruises on my frostbitten rear end) corresponds to the number of inches of snow. My floors are a mess of muddy paw prints, which I'd like to blame on a certain dog who chewed up my mop but can't because I'm not planning on mopping until the snow is melted. I want to see Avatar. I miss that intense heat I was probably cursing three months ago. I just watched Gracie's Choice and depleting my stash of Kleenex. Darn you, Lifetime!