The Storm of the Century

Sweet fancy Moses, someone remind me never again to be glib about possible winter weather. I didn't leave my house from Wednesday evening to Sunday afternoon. Wednesday afternoon they started making the predictions more dire. We went from "wintry mix" to "some ice and snow" to "10 inches of snow" and "storm of the century." I thought they were making free with the hyperbole--Storm of the Century? Give me a break. 10 inches of snow? In Tulsa? Yeah, right. Well, gosh darn if they didn't hit it right for a change. First we had a day of torrential rain, which froze overnight into a sheet of ice. Then the snow came. And came and came and came. An average of 10.4" in the Tulsa area. For the record, our average annual YEARLY snowfall is 9 inches. We broke all kinds of records--record snowfall, record lows, the first ever blizzard warning in Oklahoma (slightly north of here, thank goodness). I briefly thought about trying to get to work on Friday. Okay, I'm not that dedicated an employee, but it was payday! I measured the snow in my driveway, then measured the distance from the underbelly of my car to the ground. Exactly the same. No way in hell was I attempting that. I couldn't get anywhere to spend money, anyway. I turned on the TV and watched footage of cars getting stuck, wreckers getting stuck, ambulances getting stuck. Okay, there was REALLY no way I was going out in that! So I hunkered down for the duration with Pudge and the cats. I counted the cans of cat food--exactly enough to last until Monday morning, if necessary. Friday and Saturday I worked on clearing the driveway, just in case I should have to get out for any reason. Holy shit, that was some work! Even borrowing a snow shovel from my neighbor ('cause who needs a snow shovel around here on a regular basis?) it took hours. By the time I finally finished the bottom layer of ice on Saturday I was too tired to even think about venturing out. I went inside and realized I had devolved. I'd put so much pressure on that fleshy patch between thumb and forefinger that I was no longer able to make a fist. No more opposable thumb! I tried to eat, and kept dropping the fork. Even while it was happening, I could see the humor in that. One bad storm, and centuries of evolution down the drain. I made it to the grocery store yesterday for supplies, and today it's pretty much business as usual. Still a lot of snow on the ground, but the roads are passable, and life goes on.

And I promise to be slightly less mocking of the local meteorologists from now on. Slightly. No need for overkill, after all.