Story 627: Weather Whiplash

 SATURDAY 

“Morn-ning!”

“Good morning!  I hate to say, but you look awfully dreadful today.”

“Right you are: spent a solid hour digging the old bucket of bolts out from under the ‘bomb cyclone’ or ‘polar vortex’ or ‘thunder snow’ or whatever it is the youth are calling it these days, only to have it all plowed back in by the necessary street clearers immediately afterward and had to start the whole bloomin’ process all over again.”

“Hm.  Blast.”

“Indeed.  You’re just lucky you no longer drive and everyone has to come to you instead, yeah?”

“Well, usually, not being able to drive anymore is quite a hindrance, but I must say on days when there are 15 feet of snow outside and temperatures are in the negative digits, not going anywhere does have its perks.”

“Quite.  Tea?”

“Already had mine, so help yourself.”

“Thanks, but I’ll save it for the return journey; as you can see out the window, those innocent-looking flurries are unceasing in their descent from the heavens, and an additional six feet are predicted by tonight.”

“Oh my.  You’re welcome to stay the night, you know.”

“I packed my bag for just such an occasion.”

“Good thinking.” 

SUNDAY 

“Morn-ning!”

“Good morning!  Ready to do battle once more in rescuing your bucket of bolts from the clutches of the frozen water smothering it?”

“I would be, if it wasn’t all gone.”

“Sorry?”

“Take a look.”

“…I don’t understand; I can see out the window.”

“Exactly.  The frozen water transformed into water-water overnight and washed everything away.”

“But how is that possible?  We were surrounded by literal walls of snow – that all should take weeks to go away, even with the rain!  And yet I can see the lawn again for the first time in a month!”

“I suppose it helps that the temperature shot up by 50°F overnight as well.”

“Ah.  It did feel a bit stuffy in here when I woke this morning.”

“I took the liberty of turning down the thermostat when I got up.”

“Good move.  So, off you go then, I suppose; into the downpour instead of the blizzard.”

“Seems like it.  You might want to call a plumber at some point, though – the sump pump’s been running all night so the crawl space is probably flooded.”

“I’m sure I won’t be the only one calling.” 

MONDAY 

            “Morn-ning!”

“Oh, good morning!  So nice of you to call, but aren’t you stopping by later?”

“Actually, I’m calling to let you know that I have to cancel for today, sorry.”

“Oh, that’s all right, I can manage – is everything OK?”

“Yes, everything’s fine: the thing is… I decided to spend the day at the beach.”

“Oh.  As in, the beach?”

“Yes, well, we only have the one in this area, and I’m at it.”

“My, that sounds lovely, but I do have to ask: why?”

“Oh, you know, really, why not?”

“I mean, everyone’s free to do as they please if they’re not hurting anyone or themselves, but I can’t help but notice that we’re physically located in the upper region of the northern hemisphere, and we’re temporally located in the middle of March.”

“Yes?”

“Not exactly beach weather, I should think.”

“Have you stuck your head out the window yet today, or checked the news at all?”

“No, sadly: still trying to wrangle an available plumber and it’s been quite draining.”

“Ah, well, then you may not have noticed that summer arrived while you weren’t looking.”

“Sorry?”

“Temperature rocketed to 90°F today.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“Take a look outside if you don’t believe me.”

“I certainly will…. Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“The window sill is melting somewhat.”

“That’s rough – you might need a home repair service when all this is done, too.”

“Well, that’s dashed inconvenient – I’m sweating already, and I can only imagine the entire house is warping as we speak.”

“Rotten luck, that [Slurp].”

“Is that a frozen lemonade I hear you slurping out there?”

“You know me too well.  I’d’ve invited you to come along, you know, but I remembered you can’t stand the beach.”

“Gracious no, once you get anywhere near it, that sand is with you forever.  Oh, perfect timing, the ice cream truck is here – yoo-hoo!  Driver!  One small cone with strawberry, please!”

“I’ll leave you to it and come by tomorrow, yeah?”

“Cheers – enjoy the boiling waves!” 

TUESDAY 

“Morn-ning!  Not at the beach today, so I should get there at my usual time!”

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling – you perhaps want to skip again today.”

“That’s all right: the sunburn’s minimal, I’ll be fine!”

“Lovely, but it’s probably not a good idea for anyone to be out on the roads around here today.”

“Oh?  Why not?”

“Well, I did stick my head out the window this morning, and I did check the news, and it seems that this neighborhood is under a tornado warning.”

“Oh dear, really?  And just your neighborhood, is it?”

“Apparently the conditions here and nowhere else are ‘just right’, they said.”

“My word.  Is that why I’m hearing an emergency siren in the distance over the phone?”

“Yes, and seeing how the winds ae blowing everything around and I can see a funnel touching down about five houses away, it’s probably best that I nip down to the crawl space for half a tick.”

“Quite right.”

WEDNESDAY 

“Morn-ning!  You and the neighborhood still in one piece after the twister?”

“Oh good morning; quite all right, thank you – the mailbox was a little stirred up, but fortunately the cyclone continued down the middle of the street and disintegrated after making its point, so all’s well that ends well, and all that.”’

“Jolly good.  So, I’ll come over this morning as per usual then, shall I?”

“If you like, but I don’t mind if you’d prefer dashing off to the beach again.”

“Thanks, but not likely, seeing as it’s 28°F out.”

“Yes, but you’ve gotten me into checking the weather all the time now, and the reliably accurate prediction is that it’ll hit 100°F by noon.”

“Oh.  Today?”

“Indeed.  Why, in the single minute we’ve been talking, the thermometer has jumped to 45°F.”

“…So it has.  Well, I’m still coming over – maybe pass on the tea, though.”

“I fail to grasp the connection.” 

THURSDAY 

“Morn-ning!”

“Good morning!  After you’re all settled, I’ll need your help on a project today.”

“Ooh, sounds fun, what is it?”

“Taping all the windows before the hurricane hits.”

“So it’s definite that it’s going to hit this area?”

“As of this moment; since you insisted on still coming over today, I hope you brought your overnight bag again, seeing as the storm drains are expected to flood and the winds are expected to knock down everything.”

“I didn’t, but I suppose I can always row home, right?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

FRIDAY 

“Morn-ning!”

“Good morning!  All safe and snug at home, then?”

“Indeed I am!  Thank goodness the hurricane turned out to be only a mild torrential downpour instead – that, I can handle.”

“Yes, we’re all grateful, and I hope you’re not planning to come over today, either.”

“Well, just have to dig out the old bucket of bolts from the eight feet of snow we got overnight, so it might take me a bit longer than usual but other than that, I’ll be there.”

“Please don’t: I heard that the roads are a giant wall of mush right now, and if you wait it’ll all have melted away again when it hits 105°F tomorrow.”

“Right you are then, thanks.  Funny way to observe the first day of spring, isn’t it?”

“Quite.”

Story 625: How to Get Out of Snow Removal: Lesson 2

             “Ugh, another snowstorm?!  Where do they all come from?!”

“Not this again.”

“Sorry, but really, I just can’t take another once-a-decade storm for the eighth go-round this month – how many times do I have to dig out my car and the same plowed-in mess at the end of the driveway before enough is enough, hm?!”

“…Every time?”

“That goes without saying, but I say ‘No more!’  This time, they’re not catching me sleeping during a blizzard as the frozen mess piles up over our heads, uh-uh!”

“So, what, are you gonna go out and shovel every few hours overnight?”

“HA!”

“Yeah, don’t know why I asked – even I wouldn’t do that.”

“No, this time I’ve come up with a genius plan.”

“I bet you have.  All right, let’s hear it.”

“OK, you know the saying: ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss’?”

“I’m familiar.”

“Well, I’ve made the next logical leap in logic and determined that a moving car gathers no snow.”

“So…?”

“So, as long as my car is in constant motion during the storm, no snow will be able to pile up on it!”

“….”

“Isn’t that the most brilliant thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Not exactly.  Are you saying that you plan to drive throughout the entire blizzard?”

“You betcha!  I’m amazed no one else has thought of this earlier.”

“That’s because we’ll be in a State of Emergency and no cars are allowed on the road!  Except essential workers, which you most definitely are not!”

“Ah, but there is one, significant, ginormous exception.”

“I’m afraid to ask what it is.”

“The Turnpike’s exempt.”

“…What?!”

“If I’m already on it when the blizzard starts, then they can’t kick me off!”

“…What?!”

“Speed limit’s usually around 55-65 miles per hour; with the snow I might have to drop down to around 35, but either way that should be fast enough to keep anything from actually accumulating on me.  It.  You know: the thing I’d normally have to clean and scrape off.”

“….”

“Brilliant, huh?”

“Ignoring the mind-bogglingessness of it all this for the moment – the Turnpike is only about two hours from start to finish if you stay in-state.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Blizzard’s expected to last around 20 hours.”

“Uh-huh?”

“So you gonna keep going from state-to-state until it’s over?”

“Nah, I’m not sure the other states’ll want me: I’ll just start at the north and then find a cut-through in the south right before the river and then come back up the other way.”’

“Four times?”

“…Yes, that sounds about right, unless I need to go even slower.  Give or take a few times, then.”

“You’re gonna get stuck in the snow before you finish the first round, you know.”

“Not if I drive fast enough!”

“That’s not how – also, you’re probably gonna run out of gas, and no station will be open.”

“No worries; I’ll have extra cans with me to fill up myself!”

“Aha!  You’ll have to stop do it!”

“Please: I can fill up my tank in less than a minute, no problem; the machines take forever, but I have a system”

“I still think this is a bonkers plan.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first!  I’ll toast a water bottle to you while I’m on the road, practically snow-free, as you continue the endless struggle of shoveling powder and ice to free your trapped vehicle.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.  And how’re you supposed to get back into your snowed-in driveway after all this, anyway?”

“At that point, I can burst through it with the sheer strength of my conviction.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Ooh!  Just to hedge my bets, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare snow plow that I could attach to my front fender so everyone’ll think I’m on the way to a job and leave me alone?... Hello?” 

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          * 

“Hi there.”

“So, I have to know: how did your drive-througout-the-blizzard-so-you-don’t-have-to-dig-out-your-car experiment go?”

“Had a moderate-speed chase with the state troopers until they cut me off and tossed me into the nearest cell until the blizzard ended – didn’t even make it to the second exit.”

“Ah.”

“Apparently, in my case they chose to ignore the memo regarding the Turnpike exemption: though the howling winds I calmly argued my iron-clad position on the matter, but in the end they completely overwhelmed me with their safety protocols and protection of civilians and whatever.”

“Mm.”

“Also gave me about 15 tickets and a summons to the county court where they stopped me and not the county court where I live, so there goes that Tuesday when I have to show up.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Community service also was threatened, but I’ll call their bluff on that when I literally have my day in court.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The only reason they didn’t impound my car was it would’ve been too much of a hassle to get it to the lot in the middle of that mess, so they volleyed another fine my way instead out of spite.”

“Mm-hm.  I’m glad no one got hurt, but I’m also trying not to laugh here.”

“So I gathered.  Well, I’m pleased to be a source of amusement for you in these dreary days of lingering winter, but in the end, against all odds and in spite of everyone’s attempts, I still triumphed.”

“How, exactly?  You were in jail!”

“Yes, that’s the ultimate irony of the situation: in order to get rid of me and get their own vehicles back on the road, they had to clean off my car.”

Story 624: How to Get Out of Snow Removal: Lesson 1

             “Ugh, another snowstorm?!  Where do they all come from?!”

“Umm… the troposphere?”

“Ha-ha, my sides are splitting.  I just can’t take the futility of it all, you know?”

“No.”

“You know!  The whole ‘gotta clean off the car and shovel out the driveway’ five billion times, and then once more after the storm finally stops a month later.  And, again when the plows trap us in.  Again.”

“Well, it can’t be helped, and at least you’re physically able to do it.  And have a car and a driveway that need snow removed from them.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna!”

“Almost sorry to say that you have no choice: you’ll still be expected at work the next day, and unless you want to get up at 3 in the morning, you have to clear out everything by tonight and hope the snow doesn’t start up again while you’re asleep.  And I’m not coming over to help – I’ve got my own digging out to do.”

“Exactly!  We’re all trapped in this endless cycle of snow removal!  And what galls me is that it’s absolutely pointless!  We almost destroy ourselves removing the same frozen water over and over again, when if we’d just waited patiently, the Sun would do all the work for us – ohhhhh....”

“‘Ohhhhh,’ what?”

“I just came up with a genius plan.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Want to hear it?”

“Not particularly – bye.”

“…Absolute genius!” 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          * 

“Hi, Boss – <Potato-chip-chewing noises> just letting you know I’m calling out sick today < Potato-chip-chewing noises>.”

“Really.”

“Oh yeah – <Potato-chip-chewing noises> I got this cough – <Cough – Potato-chip-chew – Cough-Cough-Cough> and a runny nose, and body aches, and I’m whipping up a fever as we speak.”

“You got a doctor’s note?”

“…We need those?”

“Yes.”

“Since when?”

“Always.”

“Oh.  Well, I really am sick < Potato-chip-chewing noises>.”

“Mm-hm: with what?”

“Sick of cleaning off my car and driveway over and over when it’s all gonna melt in two days!”

“That’s two days’ pay since the rest of us all manage to get into work without you.”

“Just put me down for Unexpected Paid Time Off or something – ”

“Oh, that you know about?”

“ – in the meantime, I refuse to participate in the perpetual snow removal conspiracy orchestrated by the shovel-scraper-snow-blower league a second longer!”

“Mm-hm: I’m writing you up for this.”

“Buuuuut I can still have the time off, yes? < Potato-chip-chewing noises>”

“Sure, you can have as much time off as you need, waiting for each and every one of those ice crystals to evaporate, until the entire mass is completely vanished from your car and driveway, no rush!”

“Wow, I had no idea you’d be so understanding about all this!... Hello?” 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          * 

“Hi there.”

“So, how did your snow-removal-by-sunlight experiment go?”

“Exactly as predicted: I’m currently relaxing on the couch, not a care in the world, accepting Nature’s processes and no longer fighting against her forces, allowing my car and driveway to gradually emerge from their frozen blankets millimeter-by-millimeter without me having to move a muscle, and it feel wonderful.”

“Great.  Still have a job?”

“Oh no: they fired me on Day 2 of this.”

“Naturally.”

“BUT, they’re so desperate for help that I should get the call any moment now reluctantly taking me back, with a stern finger-wagging and a grim lecture on how I’d better not do anything like this ever again or that’ll really be it.”

“I believe it.  So, how are the car and driveway doing with the evaporation technique, considering we had snow taller than most people this time around?”

“Oh, let’s see out the window… yes, they should be all clear at some point.”

“About when?”

“…June.”

Story 621: When a Real Snowstorm Comes Along

 DAY -2 

(In a chaotic supermarket, Friend 1 and Friend 2 navigate their shopping carts through the free-for-all in the aisles)

 Friend 1: Did we really need to come here on a Friday night when literally everyone else is here?

Friend 2: (Focused on the refrigerated cases) Huh?  What are you going on about now?

Friend 1: (Gestures to the panicked crowds) I mean, what are we all doing here?  We live in the Northeastern U.S. – we have had snow before, it’s nothing new.

Friend 2: (Grabbing a gallon of milk and dropping it into the cart) Yeah, but not this bad in at least the past 10 years.  This is the first time I could get to the store this week, and who knows how soon the roads’ll be cleared up before we can get here again?  Better to be safe than sorry.

Friend 1: (As they squeeze through the aisle again) Sure, but what do we really need that we don’t already get enough of on our regular supermarket runs each week?

Friend 2: I just said – fine: milk.

Friend 1: I don’t drink it.

Friend 2: (Reaching onto a shelf and grabbing a carton to hold up) Eggs?

Friend 1: Don’t eat them.

Friend 2: (Drops the carton into the cart) Bread?

Friend 1: Got enough for a year.

Friend 2: (Stares at Friend 1’s empty cart) Then what are you doing here?

Friend 1: Had no plans tonight.

Friend 2: (Moves on) If you’re not getting anything for yourself, ditch the cart up front and help me with the rest – otherwise, run for it!

Friend 1: (Stares at the cart, then tosses in a bottle of juice and weaves through the crowd casually) Nothing to see, just trying to fit in…. 

DAY -1 

(At night, Friend 1 is sitting in front of a living room window and looking through binoculars up at the heavens when the phone rings)

Friend 1: (Answers by turning on the speaker phone and returns to looking up) Larder still stocked?

Friend 2: (Wrapping water pipes with newspapers) Always.  You have your heat turned up to at least 65°F, the cabinet doors open in front of the pipes, and water dripping from the faucets?

Friend 1: (Without looking away from the atmosphere) Whyyyyyy… would I do something so wasteful?

Friend 2: To keep the pipes from freezing and bursting!

Friend 1: Pff.  Urban legend.

Friend 2: Urban fact!  It’s gonna get as low as 3° overnight!  THREE!  DEGREES!

Friend 1: Sounds like a scam.

Friend 2: For the love of – you live in a condo, think of your neighbors!

Friend 1: Why?  I doubt they give me a second thought, let alone a first.

Friend 2: They’ll give you more than that when they sue you for flooding their units with all the water from your broken pipes!

Friend 1: (Suddenly lowers the binoculars) I’ll call you right back. 

30 MINUTES LATER 

Friend 2: (Answers the phone while curled up in a blanket on the couch) Well?

Friend 1: (Back to looking through binoculars up at the night sky) Well, our association e-mailed us the same suggestions you just mentioned, so I’m all done with setting that stuff up, Mom.

Friend 2: You’re welcome.  Now if your pipes still burst after all that, you know you did everything you could to prevent it.

Friend 1: (Nods while observing) Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Friend 2: What are you up to, anyway?  You’ve had me on speaker both times.

Friend 1: I’m on storm watch.

Friend 2: What?

Friend 1: If this storm’s supposed to be as epic as everyone claims, I want to see the very first flake of doom as it descends from the heavens.

Friend 2: Not supposed to start until 4 a.m.

Friend 1: (Lowers the binoculars again) I’m going to bed – good night.

Friend 2: Stay warm! 

DAY 1 

(Friend 1 sits up suddenly in bed, flailing in the sheets and blankets)

Friend 1: Oh no, the snow’s everywhere, I’m suffocating!  (Sees the sheets and blankets and stops) Oh.  Just a dream.  Never mind.  (Gets out of bed, walks to the window, and opens the blinds – everything outside is covered in white, and heavy snow continues to fall steadily) Oops.  Whelp, that’s what we pay snow removal fees for – they can wake me when it’s time to move my car.  (Closes the blinds, skips back to bed, dives under the sheets and blankets, and immediately falls back asleep) 

DAY 2 

(Friend 1 is cocooned in quilts on the couch and watching a movie when the phone rings)

Friend 1: (Pauses the movie and answers the phone) Hey, how’s hibernation going?

Friend 2: (Working on a laptop at a kitchen table) Not so great – I no sooner shovel out the driveway then I get plowed back in again; unavoidable, but still tiresomely tedious.  I wonder if this is how Sisyphus felt pushing that same rock up that same hill over and over?

Friend 1: (Sipping hot chocolate) Wouldn’t know – I try to avoid that feeling whenever possible.  Wanna borrow my backhoe?

Friend 2: What – where – how on Earth do you even store that?

Friend 1: I know a guy.  (Slurps the drink)

Friend 2: Well, thanks, but I think by now I should be cleared out for good on this storm, since the freezing snow’s finally stopped.

Friend 1: Oh, so you’re working from home today?

Friend 2: Yeah, we got the go-ahead for that since the roads aren’t too clear yet.  What about you?

Friend 1: Heh, we in retail are afforded no such luxury.

Friend 2: So, did the store close again today, then?

Friend 1: HA!

Friend 2: I know, silly question.

Friend 1: No, I left a detailed message on my manager’s cell phone saying how impossible it is for anyone to safely get anywhere today, so if even the customers can’t get there, why should I, and all that standard boilerplate; I also threw in that another storm is threatening on the horizon, so for everyone’s stake I should stay in my hole where I can’t damage anything.  (Sees an alert) Perfect timing – I got a response just now.

Friend 2: What’s it say?

Friend 1: (Reads the message out loud) “If I have to be here, you have to be here.  And your shift starts at 5 when the roads will be clearer so I don’t want to hear it.” …. I wonder if I can pretend I didn’t receive this?

Friend 2: Nope.  Careful driving tonight!

Friend 1: Elitist! 

DAY 7 

(Friend 2 stares at the heavily sideways-falling snow out the living room window, then calls Friend 1)

Friend 1: (Collapsed on the couch, still wearing a winter coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and boots; uses a pinky to answer the phone on speaker and wheezes out) Yes?!

Friend 2: Hey, just checking how you’re holding up with Blizzard #3?

Friend 1: I have cleared off and shoveled out my car no fewer than 200 times this week, and driven through icy snow for more miles than are physically located between home and work, nearly wiping out at least twice every trip and taking the entire highway with me each time – ask no more of me.

Friend 2: (Winces) Ouch.  We go from middling snow for over a decade to back-to-back-to-back blizzards in the space of a week – I think they fed off each other.

Friend 1: (Sliding farther down the couch) They certainly fed off me….

Friend 2: Sorry you still have to drive into work during all this – I haven’t been in the office since before the first storm.

Friend 1: I’m sincerely happy for you.  I’m shocked though that my job actually did close again today due to the roads.

Friend 2: Oh, good!

Friend 1: After I’d already broken off the reconstituted glacier that was covering my car.

Friend 2: Oh, nuts.

Friend 1: (Removes the scarf and drops it onto the floor) Remember when we used to love playing in the snow, even if we had to help shovel the driveway first?

Friend 2: Of course; good times.

Friend 1: (Uses a foot to draw the living room window’s blinds closed) Now, I just hope the power stays on, the pipes don’t freeze, and spring starts tomorrow.

Friend 2: Don’t be greedy.

Story 616: I Was Dreaming of a White Christmas… But Not Anymore

             December 24, 20XX 

Dear Santa, 

I would like to start this letter with an expression of gratitude, which I am certain is so rarely received on your end.  I can guarantee that 99.9999999%, if not 100%, of your one-way correspondence consists of “I want”, “I need”, “I really want”, and “GIMME!”, with not one piece of mail dated December 26 that is a thank-you note.  Well, let me be possibly the first – possibly the only – to write to you saying:

Thank you, dear Santa Claus, for all the bounty you have bestowed upon me over the years.  I deeply appreciate all the efforts of you, Mrs. Claus, the elves, the reindeer, and everyone else on your staff each and every year to please the materialist desires of all the children of the world, even if they are on the Naughty List (let’s face it, who has ever really gotten only coal as a present?  That’s what I thought).  Your hard work, and all the pleasure it brings, does not go unnoticed.

I especially appreciate the granting of my biggest request of all time that you finally granted last year: after so many unseasonably warm Christmases full of rain and mud, last year I wrote to you with all my heart asking for just one more true, magical, wondrous White Christmas.  And by golly, you delivered!  I looked out my window the morning of December 25 and the world was covered in a blanket of the good stuff, making everything look soft, wholesome, and beautiful.  It was glorious, and I will be eternally grateful to you for granting that request and creating a truly special day filled with the loveliness that only a winter wonderland can bring.

OK, now onto the meat of this criticism sandwich:

I realize that you are used to permanent winter up where you reside – I am guessing that you actually prefer it that way – but in the latitude where I reside, all the living creatures here have only ever lived in a climate with, you know, seasons.  It is possible that you may not be aware of this, but that amazing White Christmas you gifted last year never stopped.  As in, NEVER.  STOPPED.  We are now on Day 365 of continuous snowfall, with no end in sight due to the apparently self-perpetuating cloud formations that hover over us like a prophecy of doom fulfilled.  There was no spring, no summer, and no autumn; just one long, unending winter.   At first everyone laughed about it as January rolled into February, saying we finally got a real winter again after years of mush so of course we are never satisfied when it commits to the role, but then March rolled into April, and when Mother’s Day came around everyone knew we had a problem.  Thank goodness the effect was localized to our town and we never were cut off from outside deliveries of food and other necessities, but the animals who had migrated from force of habit still have not come back, and those who usually stick it out packed up and left in June, along with a third of the town’s human population.  And sure, there is sledding, and snowball fights, and occasional “snow days” that are rendered meaningless by technology for working or attending school remotely, but it all wears a bit then when you are falling on the icy sidewalk for the thirtieth time or watching yet another 10-car pile-up due to frozen potholes or the plows breaking down trying to keep up with the continual accumulation.  There are committees now that regularly patrol the streets knocking snow off of trees and checking homes’ and businesses’ rooftops so that the gradually increasing weight of all those pretty little frozen pieces of water do not crush everything underneath them.  I shovel a few inches outside my window at the end of every day just so I can look through it the following morning and confirm that the world out there still exists, and nearly everyone’s water pipers burst at least twice before a notice went out to wrap them all up and keep a hairdryer on standby.  The power surprisingly has mostly managed to stay on – there was one weekend we now refer to as “The Fourth of July Freeze-Out”, but otherwise electricity has been consistent.  Still, it is no fun trick-or-treating with snowshoes and ski poles – what kind of ballet dancer or astronaut is that supposed to be? – and all the ice cream parlors went out of business before we reached August in our Year Without a Summer.  At Thanksgiving, everyone said they were thankful that their furnaces still worked, and that was it.

So, I write to you again, dear Santa Claus, to please flip the switch on the never-ending snowfall, and bring back the rain – or, better yet, move along the permanent clouds for at least three months so that everything can dry out, and then bring back the rain in time for spring, and for at least something to grow this year.  We will even take a gentle tornado at this point, if only it would suck up all the snow that, at its current untouched height, has now surpassed the water tower.

I thank you again for last year’s thoughtful gift and humbly ask for this one last present, and I promise that I will never write to you asking for anything else for the rest of my life.

Well, except for maybe peace on Earth and goodwill toward all, but I know that is a bit of a stretch.

                                                                         With Shivering Affection, 

                                                                         Snowed-In Sandy, Age 10

Story 525: Be Careful When You Wish for Snow

             (In a townhouse, Resident sits in an armchair staring out the living room window at the bright sunny day and sighs from the bottom of the lungs to the top of the mouth)

Resident: <Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh> I wish we’d have some actual snow this winter.

(A mythologically tiny person pops into view in the middle of the room)

Weather Elf: Your wish is my command!

 Resident: (Leaps out of the chair) Ah!  Demon!  (Grabs a nearby magazine and flings it at Weather Elf, who side-steps out of the way)

Weather Elf: Hey!  But I suppose my appearance was a bit abrupt – would you prefer if I popped outside and knocked on the front door instead?

Resident: (Brandishes a coaster to throw next) What?  No!

Weather Elf: Suit yourself; I’ll just pop over here and relax, then.  (Pops onto the couch and settles in) Got any tea?

Resident: Wha – I – who – you invaded my home, and now you want tea?!  What kind of burglar are you?!

Weather Elf: None, luckily for you, or else this would’ve taken a real nasty turn by now.  I’m a Weather Elf, and you summoned me here – unintentionally, it’s becoming increasingly apparent.  (Resident stares unblinkingly, coaster still raised in the air) Have a seat; we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.  And would you please put that thing down?  I’m clearly not someone who’d be affected by mortal weapons, so you’re only embarrassing yourself.

Resident: (Abashedly sets the coaster back onto a lamp table and sits in the armchair again) All right, then – what do you want?

Weather Elf: Nothing from you: as I said upon my sudden entrance, “Your wish is my command.”  (Does a slight bow while seated, for emphasis) I appropriated that line from the genies, but they’re in the process of obtaining self-emancipation and ultimate retribution so I don’t think they’ll mind too much.  Or notice.

Resident: (Thinking back) Wait, so you heard me wish for snow, and now you’re taking it upon yourself to make it happen?

Weather Elf: Pretty much.  (Nods head at the window) Take a look.

Resident: (Turns to the window and jumps out of the chair again upon seeing that the sunny day is now darkly gray and there are several inches of snow on the ground, with more continuously falling) Whoa!  When did that happen?!

Weather Elf: As soon as I got here, and all the while we’ve been… chatting.

Resident: (Still staring out the window in awe, and now softly smiling at the beauty of the winter wonderland) Wow….

Weather Elf: I know, right?  (Inspects fingernails smugly) Blizzards are my specialty.

Resident: (Snaps out of trance and whips around to face Weather Elf) “Blizzard”?!  No-no-no, I just wanted a little snow!

Weather Elf: (Lowers hand back down and softly sighs in irritation) Not a mind reader, you know.  This area hasn’t had much snow for years, and you clearly stated “actual snow”, which means you wanted a lot of it to make up for lost accumulation.

Resident: Well, yeah, but not a blizzard!  Just one or two inches to cover the grass and trees so they look like a picture postcard!  (Turns back to the window, places both hands on the glass, and leans in to get a better look) Is it a foot already?!

Weather Elf: You betcha!  I figured 18 inches oughta do it.

Resident: (Turns back to Weather Elf) “18 inches”????!!!!

Weather Elf: Uh-huh.  Haven’t seen that around here in almost 30 years, am-I-right?  Should take you straight back to the glory days of your self-absorbed childhood.  (The two stare at each other for a bit) Wanna go sledding?

Resident: No!  This much snow only means the roads’ll be impassable and people’ll probably lose power, and heat!  (Sinks into the chair and covers face with both hands) Oh no, what’ve I done?!  There was so much damage from the flooding and the winds from the random rainstorms last week, and now this!

Weather Elf: (Gets off the couch to walk over to Resident and pat the latter on the shoulder) There, there – no one’s going to lose power in this one, or get any damage, and the roads’ll stay clear so the only accumulation’ll be on the grass and the trees.  The stuff’ll even miraculously stay off the power lines and any other equipment you mortals need to run your daily lives.  Happy?

Resident: (Looks up at Weather Elf and sniffs) Even my car?

Weather Elf: (Glares at Resident) Yes, even all the cars.  It’ll be an inexplicable phenomenon that all the science nerds will spend the next century trying to figure out – but they never will, tee-hee-hee!  (Resident stares blankly at Weather Elf) C’mon, I gotta have some sprinkling of mischief in this.

Resident: Why?

Weather Elf: It’s a compulsion – can’t be helped.  So, can you finally just enjoy this weather event that you longed for, hm?

Resident: (Looks back out the window and is momentarily hypnotized by the steady snowfall and a passing rabbit hopping by in the calm scene) Yes, I think I can.  (Turns back to Weather Elf) Thank you, I really appreciate it.

Weather Elf: Good, since your eternal soul is now MINE.  (Resident’s eyes widen in horror) Had you there for a second.  I love pulling that one: freaks you mortals out every time.

Resident: No kidding.  But seriously, do I owe you some kind of payment now, like seven years of servitude or something like that?

Weather Elf: No, why would you?  You didn’t ask me specifically to do this and we didn’t sign any agreements beforehand, so why would you owe me anything?

Resident: I dunno, I guess because nothing’s ever free, and “Be careful what you wish for,” and these things always come with strings attached and, you know, everything.

Weather Elf: Well – smart, but not applicable in this case.  I really did grant your wish out of the goodness of my heart.

Resident: Aw.

Weather Elf: And I was extremely bored.

Resident: Ah.

Weather Elf: So – we good here?

Resident: Sounds like it, yeah.  Thanks again; this was… nice.

Weather Elf: You’re welcome.  Enjoy the magic of the season you so desperately crave, while it lasts.  (Pops out of view)

Resident: (Turns back to the window, smiling broadly while watching the snow accumulate another six inches on the grass while avoiding the roads and electrical equipment, then furrows brows in thought) Hmmmmm… I wonder if I can call out for a snow day even though I work from home…?

Weather Elf: (Voice) Don’t push it.

Story 486: Easter Blizzard

Relative 1: (On the phone) You know it’s supposed to snow on Easter Sunday, right?  Really badly.

Host: (On the phone) I did hear that vile rumor, and I refuse to lend it any credence: unlike the rest of the world, including the Equator, our area’s had zippo snow this winter, and I absolutely reject buying into the circulating gossip that our one and only blizzard this go-round will arrive post-post-season in the middle of April!

Relative 1: Well, believe it or not; either way, nobody’s showing up at your house for dinner that day.

Host: I’ve got 15 pounds of ham here!  And all that charcuterie!

Relative 1: Maybe save it for Mother’s Day?

Host: You’re no help.

 EASTER SUNDAY

(Host wakes up suddenly, jumps out of bed, runs to the window, throws back the curtains, and takes in the winter wonderland continuously buried by sideways snowfall)

Host: Holy heavens – how is he supposed to rise in this?!

(Some time later, Host is awkwardly shoveling the driveway in a losing battle when the cell phone rings.  Flinging the shovel away and using teeth to tear off a glove, Host unzips several layers of coats to take the phone out of an inner pocket)

Host: (Screaming against the ice-ridden wind) HELLO?!

Relative 1: (Relaxing on an armchair with feet propped up on a cushioned stool in front of a roaring fire, and sipping hot tea) Don’t tell me you’re actually shoveling out your driveway for nonexistent guests.

Host: NOT EVERYONE CANCELLED!

Relative 1: Yeah, bet they’re the same ones who didn’t bother to tell you they were coming in the first place, either.

Host: …IT WAS ASSUMED THEY WERE!

Relative 1: Wait until the snow’s over to shovel it all out; just go back inside and enjoy your ham, `cause I know you cooked it anyway.

Host: IT WAS ALREADY DEFROSTING!

Relative 1: I hear ya.  Whelp, Happy Easter to you – don’t throw out your back.

Host: HAPPY EASTER TO YOU – (The wind almost blows the phone away; Host scrambles to get it back) TOOOOOO!!!!!

Relative 1: (As both end the call) Poor sap.  (Takes a nap)

(After finally realizing that the snow being shoveled is replaced immediately, Host re-enters the house, throws the coats, boots, gloves, and hats into the laundry room, slams the door, and enters the kitchen to check on the ham)

Host: (Opens the oven door) Roast, my lovely, roast.  (Hears the cell phone ringing inside the laundry room) Shoot.  (Slams shut the oven door and flings open the laundry room door to paw through the coats until the phone is found and answered) Hello?

Relative 2: Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the fam and I aren’t going to make it there today.

Host: I figured.

Relative 2: Yeah, just can’t get going today for some reason.  Sorry also for calling so last-minute – everybody else is already there by now, I bet.

Host: (As the house shudders with a giant blast of wind) No, not really.

Relative 2: Ah, well, you always get a few cancellations at these get-togethers, that’s how it goes.  Happy Easter anyway, and Happy Spring!  (Ends the call)

Host: (Stares at the silent phone) Was that one calling from the Sun?!

(Later that afternoon, after ham dinner-for-one, Host lies on the couch while watching the wintry outdoors; the snowdrifts are now climbing up the windows)

Host: (Unwraps a chocolate bunny and bites off the head) My poor pansies.  (CHOMP) Poor birds.  (CHOMP)  Poor trees, poor grass, poor flowers, poor spring babies.  (CHOMP)  Poor ham, poor appetizers, poor desserts.  (Finishes the bunny and smacks lips in satisfaction) Ahhhh… at least one thing went right today.  (Looks again out the window, which is nearly a wall of white) Well, guess we’ll just have to look forward to a summer of 100°F for months on end to make up for this.