The weathermen predicted snow today. Lots of it. All day yesterday, the totals and the excitement crept up. The storm was supposed to be here for the morning rush hour.
Then it was coming at noon.
Then it was coming for the evening rush hour.
Twelve hours later, here it is:
They say it’s still coming, but I’ll believe it when I shovel it. Sometimes I wish I could be as spectacularly wrong without consequences at my job.
Notes from Mosquito Hill 