Actually, I’m hoping for much more than that. Something in the area of 36 inches would be perfect.
You see, I live on the East Coast where the media has worked themselves into a frenzy of contrived euphemisms and cheesed up graphics. The weather IS the news here. My local station is running clips full time of poor saps standing in the wind and precipitation, trying to be heard over the howling gales. What are they doing there? Well, they’re describing the wind and precipitation, of course. Apparently, it’s easier for some of us to look at the tv than it is to look out the window.
In any case, setting the whole “using the weather as hype to get ratings” thing aside (sort of), this had BETTER be a good storm. Because I’ve been told to expect a whopper. So I went to the grocery store. I searched the remainders on the shelves for the last scraps of nutrition that the previous herd of scavengers missed. I dug through a dairy case, desperately foraging for the LAST container of fat free yogurt, like the soul survivor of some type of weather holocaust, only to come up empty handed.
Then I got in line for 40 minutes behind people with 80 bottles of water in their carts, and wild-eyed doomsday cult expressions on their faces. “The end is near,” their faces said to me as they purchased the fat free yogurt which should have rightfully been mine.
But most importantly of all, I planned for a day off. Yes, it’s bad enough if I bought extra toilet paper for no good reason. But I will not be denied my snow day! I WILL have my day at home with my firewood, my cats, my trampoline, and my books to entertain myself. I will not be lied to again! My wait in line must be vindicated. My toilet paper purchase must be justified. I must have at LEAST 10 inches!
Don’t wake me up to tell me I’ve received any less. The repercussions could be dire.