First a friend of Paul’s got into a minor accident Saturday morning, which canceled their plans for the weekend, and those plans were the reason Paul didn’t come over Friday night like usual. And snow kept him away all day Saturday.
I was supposed to spend Friday night at a fire-company fundraiser Terra and her mom help out with, complete with alcohol, drawings, and a band, and almost the whole group bailed because of snow. I was still gonna make an effort and so were my parents, although apparently only because my past behavior has indicated I don’t let snow fuck with my plans.
My car was a little stuck in the parking lot. No big deal. That happens a lot when the bastards with the big, beefy trucks who can run over anything no problem take the easiest spots least likely to barricade me in. But I dug out, and even though I have yet to see proof that the city of Washington believes in plows, things weren’t going too bad, especially on the highways.
Then my bitch GPS took me down some back roads for a shortcut. I slid everywhere but made it out alive.
With about 20 minutes left to go out of a damn hour-long drive, the snow suddenly turned to an all-out white-out blizzard, and my mom called to say they came up on someone in a ditch, stopped, and were gonna eventually turn around because they couldn’t go any further.
About the exact same time, my car decided it couldn’t handle the hill I was trying to drive up, so I sat with my flashers on, waited for another car to pass me, made sure he didn’t wreck when I saw him sliding all over the road in front of me, then turned around and rode that bitch in second gear back down and all the way back home.
I’m not sure why plows drive around in snow storms without actually plowing, but they’re what’s wrong with this country.
Over an hour later–and ultimately two hours total travel time–I was back in my apartment, all dressed up without even any good mixers for my various flavored vodkas. Had I not already changed out of my very snowy jeans and into pajamas, I would’ve walked either to Shop ‘N’ Save or the six-pack shop. I should’ve done it anyway.
Paul and I planned to go see Gravity Sunday, but snow ruined that, too. The theme for the weekend was “let’s dump a lot more snow than predicted at a totally different time than predicted,” which is especially inconvenient when you need groceries.
When it stopped, I literally dug myself out–then got pushed out–and trudged over for groceries, couldn’t make it back in the lot, very slowly circled the block and almost didn’t make it up the hill, and park at the very flat and more efficiently plowed Methodist church next door. God bless those Methodists.
And now we’re in for 30-below wind chills tomorrow. Fuck you, winter.