this picture. You've got to love the great state of Minnesota.
Actually, I do love it; it's just the benevolent employers who expect me in during crappy weather that I don't love so much. I shouldn't have been trying to drive into work today -- I should have been trying to drive to the ski slope.
I was able to jerry rig things so that I was able to work from home for a while. Normally, I would love this sort of thing, but remember that I am stuck living in my parents' basement.
My mother is a schoolteacher and classes at her school were cancelled. She squealed like a teenage girl this morning when she got the call that she had been given a day off.
"I don't think your mother has been that happy in days," my dad said later.
The child bride works in connection with a number of local schools, for which classes were also cancelled. And my dad is a managerial type for my benevolent employer, so he doesn't really do anything other than schedule meetings -- all of which were called off today because other managerial types didn't feel like leaving their far-flung suburbs.
My mother spent the day watching TV and eating ice cream, my dad spent part of the day scheduling meetings from home, and the child bride got in a good workout.
Eventually my dad decided that scheduling meetings from home wasn't as much fun and we risked our lives to drive into work. The roads were in rough shape and, as is always strangely the case when it snows, no one seemed to know where they were going.
Have you ever read a story about a house fire and the firefighters find some poor person's body under a pile of clothes and you think, "What the hell was wrong with that person? What mental failure would cause you to seek refuge from fire beneath a pile of flammable things, within something that is on fire?"
When it snows in Minnesota, you see the people who would not live through a house fire. They hit their brakes on patches of ice; they meander across three lanes without warning; the speed up and slow down by dramatic degrees; the presence of snow and ice causes them to lose what little grasp of sense they had and they become speeding death things, hurtling themselves down roads with no more skill or focus than a dog that smells meat but just can't seem to find it.