To hear the media spin it, the
Nor'easter that visited New England today was going to be a disaster
of epic proportions. But to those of us actually living here in New
England it was a normal part of winter.
While I did get up a little earlier
than my usual time - about 15 minutes early - I still left at my
normal time. Or at least I attempted to.
I took the trusty F150 4X4 and started
up The Manse's driveway, but only made it up about a third of the way
before I realized I was going to have to do some shoveling. That took
about 5 minutes as I only cleared enough to find the strips of sand
still covering the driveway from last weekend's snow and made a path
for the F150's wheels. After that it was up and out onto our road.
The trip to work was uneventful for the
most part. The road conditions weren't great but that wasn't the
biggest problem. It was the poor visibility. Along the 4 mile stretch
of road that leads to one of the state highways visibility hovered
between 100 feet and barely past the hood of the truck. It made for
slow going. (At this point we had maybe 4 inches of very dry, fluffy
snow.) What would normally be a 15 minute trip lasted 25. But I made
it to work without incident.
At 2PM the word came from the lone
manager at our lab: Go home.
After 10 minutes cleaning off the
trusty F150 and digging out a bit from in front, I was on my way
home. At least I had the foresight to call BeezleBub (he had the day
off because school was closed) and asked him to fire up the Official
Weekend Pundit Snowblower and clear the driveway. The last thing I
wanted to do was slide down the drive way and slide into his Jeep or
Twirl Girl's Blazer.
The trip home was another 25 minute
drive with nary a vehicle to be seen. On my way home I counted about
a half dozen snow plows, two cars and a pickup truck. One of those
two cars and the pickup were off the side of the road about a mile
and a half from The Manse. I stopped just long enough to see if
either of them needed help. After being assured they were both
alright and that a tow truck had been called I continued on my way.
When I arrived at the top of our
driveway, Twirl Girl was poised on her new snowboard preparing to
slide down the semi-cleaned surface. She motioned me to go ahead and
I did, pulling into the garage.
I was home.
BeezleBub had cleared enough of the
driveway to allow the trusty F150 to get to the garage and no more.
Not that I'm complaining since I know we'll have to go out again in a
few hours and start all over again once the snow stops.
And so ends another run-of-the-mill
Nor'easter, the media hype notwithstanding.
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