Picture it: It’s snowing and then sleeting. I figure waiting to go to work is the answer. Though that usually works, today I find myself in the thick of the sleet (and a slightly incorrect forecast) and realize I’ve done this backwards (listening to forecast = my first mistake). The school I use as my guide as to what to do changed from a two-hour delay to closed, apparently possessing a crystal ball I’m not privvy to. The next time this happens, though, I’ll follow their lead.
I crawl on the back roads that are all of a sudden covered with ice-topped snow. I crawl on the highway, now slushy and slicker than the earlier traffic reports on TV indicated. People pass turtle me and, not long after, I pass what may be one of them with a new friend of theirs spun out on the side of the road. I don’t smile — now is not the time for Schadenfreude.
I slide through the stop sign in my snow-covered parking lot (after making sure no one is coming the other direction, of course). I park all the way at the end because the spot lines aren’t clear and I don’t feel like playing “Make a Space” with others who probably don’t color inside the lines either. Curb on one side, I feel safer leaving Blue Tootie alone until lunch.
Once settled at my desk, I’m “teased” about how simple snowflakes falling make everyone panic. I tell a bit of my tale of super slick ICY roads and the spin out I saw. It gets me no sympathy.
Later, when The Daughter doesn’t appear at her scheduled time, I inquire: Is she coming in?
“No, because of the weather.”
With a straight face, too.
I could try to explain the face I made or the sound, or the shaking of the head that continues as I write this. It doesn’t really matter, though.
There are rules, and then there are rules.
And from now on, I make my own, always. If it’s not safe for her, it’s not safe for me, especially since I didn’t even get a “Glad you’re safely here” and/or a “Thank you.”
Now, how to get the fact that I AM CLOSED on a snow day to scroll across the bottom of the TV in the lobby… … …