Today is notable as it marks the first real blizzard
that the North Country
has had this year. It's not really a blizzard, but school
s are closed and everything has quieted down a bit since the snow began to fall. I take what I can get.
Yetserday saw my return to the Frozen North. The trip was fairly uneventful, save for a particularly annoying 4x4 with a pilot to match. It was somewhere between neon and lime green, jacked up on a rusty suspension supported by four huge tires, and with tomato soup cans for mufflers. Normally I wouldn't mind such a vehicle, but in being behind this monstrosity I was also forced to inhale lungful after dizzying lungful of the pale blue cloud exiting its blatting exhaust. He was also going about fifty when everone else was traveling ten mph faster. I managed to downshift and zoom past this guy once, only to be stuck behind a car at a light as he passed me in a small town. Followed him for the next forty minutes, getting a rather bad headache in the process. Passed him again, only to see him turn off the road in my rearview. Damn...
Today was rather uneventful, aside from the snow. While outside I slipped and fell twice. The first time I did a rather painful split while trying to keep from spilling my coffee, the other I just ended up on my ass. Didn't spill my joe, though.
Tonight everything has been canceled, and a good thing to as I am batting a fierce headache (unrelated to yesterday’s exhaust-ache, I think). Have taken three Excedrin and drank four glasses of water; that beat it back to a neutral corner in my brain. Currently listening to Elvis Costello and trying to forget about it. Not doing well.
It will be interesting to see what tomorrow brings. Will we be buried in snow and completely shut down? While I wish for it, I don't think it will actually happen. I can remember once when beautiful girl and myself were vacationing in Montreal in April last year. We were on the thirty-first floor of the Hilton there, and had slept too late on our last day in Quebec. We rose, she running to the bathroom as I walked to the huge window that dominated one wall of our room, ready to take in the spectacular view of Montreal I had grown accustomed to every morning. I pulled the curtains to find the city gone, completely buried under feet of snow. "Montreal's gone!" I shouted to the bathroom. We had to drive home that day. I hope that when I look out my window tomorrow, my northern world will have been swallowed by a great beast with a white stomach.
What does this have to do with a daylog? My head still hurts.