We got socked on the jaw with another big snowstorm last night. The New York Times has such a wonderful way with words. They called it a “giant amoeba-shaped storm.” An excellent metaphor. They called the December 26th mega-blizzard “diabolical” because of the timing. Not only did it deprive everyone of a white Christmas, but it also prevented people from getting home. Some for a week or more! Diabolical, indeed.
I have colleagues who are on staff who spread the word yesterday that they were going to “work from home” today. Up here in the Northeast, “work from home” is a euphemism for staying in your pajamas and fucking off all day. But not me, brothers and sisters! Because I’m still just a consultant, it’s imperative that I make it in to work. No work = no pay.
So at 5:15 a.m. I was shoveling about 14 inches of powdery snow out of my driveway. Have I mentioned that I’m a martyr? I am! You’d think that I’d be violently heaving shovels of snow in great, angry arcs but that wasn’t the case at all. Snow can be a big pain in the ass but, good Christ, it’s beautiful.
Everything was white-white. Snow was clinging to the tiniest tree branch and there was a muffled calm. There was no wind and the storm had passed so the stars were out. One bright planet was shining in the southern sky. I would have gotten the driveway cleared in half the time if I hadn’t stopped to soak it all in every few minutes. There was a true Zen-like tranquility in the air. Being tripped-up by circumstances was the furthest thing from my mind. For fleeting moments, I felt kind of lucky.