It's the night before the storm of epic proportions, or so it is being called. I'm not going to lie; I hope the weather people are wrong. I hope the radar models all suck eggs. I hope the computer projections are all bullshit.
I like snow. Don't get me wrong. I'm a New Englander at heart and come from generations of New Englanders before me (about 400 years' worth). But even I've had enough. It's too much. One station puts our area in a pocket of 24" snowfall. Seriously. Pardon my filthy mouth during Lent, but where the Christ am I supposed to put this shit?
I'm still tired from a few years ago when I pretty much single-handedly shoveled something like 110" of snow in a season. That's like nine frigging feet of snow. I still haven't recovered from the trauma. And now, this. This debacle of a snowstorm.
It's not that it's too late for such a storm. We've gotten these asshole storms right into April - a couple of times into May. Come on, though. On the heels of two weeks in the 60's and 70's? Really? REALLY?!
As I sit here typing this, wondering if I'll even have electricity by the afternoon, it is silent outside. Silent. No cars are out, the trains seem less frequent. It's eerie, like everyone has battened the hatches and is just waiting. For some strange reason, this forces the theme song from Jaws to play in a continuous loop through my brain.
All the times the weather people are wrong -- BE WRONG NOW. My money is on the forecast being wrong. HA! Let's see if I'M the one who is RIGHT this time. Besides, it's always fun to watch the people who bombarded the grocery store prior to the storm end up kicking themselves when it all ends without pomp and circumstance within hours.
