My record as a blogging snow-day meteorologist stands at 1-0. I nailed it. We were out today, and have already called off for Tuesday. A four-day weekend for one Val Thevictorian! And I didn't even have fancy-schmancy radar and analog data for fine-tuning my prediction.
Here's the way things went down. I arose at 4:50 a.m. and saw no sign of snow. That was okay. Because it wasn't supposed to get here until 9:00. So I turned on the TV to check out those other meteorologists, then set about making The Pony's lunch. I jumped in the shower and prepared myself for school. Monday is duty day, you know. No dilly-dallying on Monday mornings.
After a cursory cruise through the three local stations, I settled back in my recliner for a chair nap. All that sleeping every night simply wears me out. Earlier this year, I would have kept my eyes glued on the bottom of the screen, eagerly awaiting my reprieve. But I am jaded now. Jaded by the abduction of Old Man Winter. That old geezer must have been lured away by naughty La Nina.
Just before dropping my last eyelid for some shut-eye, I thought I saw one of the big three schools from the other end of the county. Pshaw! It was most likely wishful thinking. I drifted off to dreamland. Ten minutes later, the home phone rang. I startled awake. I knew it wasn't my mom with our 6:00 a.m. chatfest. The clock read 5:45. I answered, to hear the electronic stutter of our automated phone system proclaim that inclement weather was denying our students their free public education for the day. A few minutes later, the actual live-person phone-tree call came in on my cell. That meant that I had to crawl out from under my cozy comforter and look up the next number on the inside of my pantry door. You'd think someone so adroit at sailing the electronic-gadget seas would simply store that number in her cell phone. You'd think.
With the heavy lifting of my snow day duties complete, I sank back into the recliner, gave my mom a quick call, and caught another thirty minutes of sleep. The boys snoozed on. At 8:00, I woke them to say I was going to town for a Diet Coke from the gas station chicken store. No need to be snowed in without my giant cask of caffeine. I offered to pick up some breakfast. They both agreed. Though neither volunteered to ride along.
I gave Juno a thorough petting, then started for town. Halfway down the county road, snowflakes began to fall. Strange, compact snowflakes were they, floating down onto my car hood, where they bounced and lay like ice pellets. I made it back home in forty-five minutes with the grub and my beverage. Snow continued to spit throughout the morning.
At 1:00, Genius announced, "This snow day has been a bust! There is NOTHING on the ground. And what fell earlier has melted!" I shushed him forthwith. And by 3:45, he was dragging me upstairs to see the hamster-sized flakes falling at a rapid clip.
Hick drove his $1000 Caravan to work. He says it gets the best traction. Probably due to the studded snow tires, which cost more than the van. He made it within five miles of home before he was delayed by the local game warden's wife sideways on a hill. Thirty minutes later, his path was clear. Hick declared that we would not have school on Tuesday. The roads were that slick. Looks like he's got a little psychic in him, because at 6:00, I saw on Channel 2 that we had indeed called off for Tuesday. The two phone calls came shortly thereafter.
As for my day of sitting on my ample behind at home, rather than sitting on my ample behind at school...I submitted my Erma Bombeck entry. Yes. In true Val fashion, I waited until the day before the deadline. My entry is titled: A Jill of Two Trades. Of course I can't tell you what it's about. A lady reveals nothing, remember. Haven't we covered this before? The wisdom we learned from A League of Their Own?
If you'll excuse me, I need to draw up a list of tasks to pointedly ignore tomorrow. On my snow day.