George had one of his double duty days where he left home at 6AM and worked until close at the Home Depot. He left after ten, with a thirty minute drive ahead, but soon discovered that the road that leads to the house on the hill was closed due to hazardous conditions. He then considered detouring to a road that would likely take him an extra thirty minutes to get home, but found a nearer route that, to me (because I am familiar with both passages), seemed like it should have been closed before the first as it is more prone to danger even without seven inches of snow. But for whatever reason, it was not closed which implied that it was clear. But when George was nearly fifteen minutes from home, and through what most would think would be the worst of it, he slid sideways off the road into a darkened abyss (more poetry- I'm thinking maybe I just need practice ;) ). After his slip, two other cars followed in suit, and some lucky tower made $204 from their distress. Hey, one's man's disaster is another man's paycheck... Isn't that how it goes?
This puts an end to, or maybe just a pause in, my bragging about the St. Louis preparedness for snow and how no one ever has to worry about a big snowfall because of all the quick work with salt and plows. Even with these few inconveniences, it is still nothing to Nashville where the regular and singular annual snowfall leads to a massive outbreak of panic and hysteria year after year. I think it is because it really isn't cold enough for snow in Nashville. They get icy snow in the night, it melts significantly, but not completely, during the day, but then freezes again at night, creating a sheet of ice over the city that weighs down power lines to their breaking point and turns streets into a multi-vehicular slip and slide. Good times. And I never was actually able to play in the snow like we can here in the Lou. It was too wet, and then too hard. Anyway, George got home sometime after midnight due to the encounter with the ditch and the half mile hike from the bottom of the hill where he parked upon arriving back home. He promptly called in "stuck" for work in six hours. Stuck or not, he would have been sick getting up in time for that hour commute (after he has been maintaining this type of pace for over a week- without the extra fiasco that is skidding into a ravine on black ice). And evidently, the van needs to be checked out to see if it is drivable (here's hopin'!). I can't imagine there are a whole lot of people at the offices he cleans today anyway.
I, on the other hand, waited up for him but still had to get up for a whimpering Miss Puppy (not her name, still don't have a name....) who is fighting the house training hard at this point, due to the fact that there is seven inches of snow where I want her to go, and she is only about eight inches tall. Not that being home with three kids who spent large portions of their day playing out in the snow and house training a reluctant puppy is anything like working fourteen hours in addition to more than two hours worth of commuting and an icy off-road caper. I'd much rather be here! I have been baking and reading and running (and doing the minimal, but still sufficient enough to check off the day, homeschool)! Let's stay snowed in all week!
Still need a puppy name. I have been thinking of ironic names like Snowflake because she is black, but nothing I really like. Then, last night, I looked at George and said "what about Cotton?" He looked stunned. Yeah, stunned, which was weird. He said, "what made you say that?" And I said, "I don't know; it's ironic. And you're eating biscotti- and I guess I was doing different takes on that word." He was like, "That is so weird, I was just thinking Cotton too." But now I am wondering if that wasn't just midnight madness. Keep thinking....