I don’t think you ever get too old to wake up in the morning and run to the bedroom window in hopes enough of the white stuff has fallen that you don’t need to get out of your (pink) jammies (with teddy bears on them, thankyouverymuch!). The only difference between childhood and adulthood snowdays is the amount of accumulation it takes to shut your life down for the next 24 hours (and the size of the jammies you’re wearing). As a child all it took was a mere few inches and I was spending my afternoon with the neighbor boy and his red-racer sled. As an adult, work doesn’t end until the snowfall resembles something Nostradamus predicted.
Lucky for me…
The thing about living on an island is that should anything happen to compromise the bridges in and out of town, you’re stuck until further notice. Needing to get to a shift at a restaurant that shouldn’t have bothered opening today anyway doesn’t constitute emergency use of the causeway. So, it isn’t so much that my job isn’t open today. It’s just that I can’t get there (Aw, shucks!).
I did have to trudge out into the New Jersey tundra briefly for much-needed snowday supplies (frozen pizza, cookies, Pepsi). It took me about half an hour to make a ten minute trip, but I’m all warm and comfy now (yes, back in my jammies.) I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee and a stack of Vogues to catch up on. So, to any of my inland coworkers who may be reading this….