So the weather report went from some rain expected to, oh, maybe we’ll get a little snow to, oh, gee, how’s another 10 inches sound? Good? Good. So I got to plow the driveway again last night and this morning (my favorite way to start the day). Then it was an invigorating half hour or so standing around waiting for the bus as the snow blew into my face (you’d think the wind would pick a direction and stick with it, but, no you’d be wrong – it seems to insist on blasting me in the kisser no matter what direction I happen to be standing). 

I could have walked across the street to the diner to warm up with a cuppa (it is senior day, after all). Could have, if the f*cking bus app was worth a shit. Oh, when the weather’s pleasant, it works great, showing me the location of my chariot and the expected arrival time. When the weather turns to shit, though, not so much. It basically just looks at me with it’s big innocent blank screen and more or less shrugs its little digital shoulders at me. So, there I stood, snow accumulating rapidly on my shoulders (and head).

And then when the bus came, it wasn’t the usual relatively comfy “coach” that I’ve become accustomed to, but a crappy “city” bus with plastic seats that are somehow harder than concrete. Oh boy.

Now, at the risk of furnishing too much information, my normal morning routine consists of (among other things) a pot of coffee and a liter or so of water (give or take). Not counting the half-liter of water in my bowl of oatmeal. This, combined with a 35 or so minute bus ride means my bladder is just about ready to pop as I walk the quarter mile or so to work and up the five flights of stairs. When you preface that trip with an unexpected 30 minute wait out in the cold, well, let’s just say it made for a rather uncomfortable ride.

I might have to invest on some of those catheters I see on the teevee.

But here I am at work with – as far as I can tell – no internal organ damage. The snow doesn’t seem to be letting up, and I don’t expect the bus this evening to be anywhere near on time. So it’s more standing around in a white-out on the off chance that the bus will be on time (the bus waits for no man, but all men – and women – must wait for the bus), before I get back to where my truck is parked so I can dig it out from a foot or so of snow in order to drive home and plow the goddamn driveway again. If I’m lucky, I might be able to have some dinner befor I go to bed so I can start it all over tomorrow morning.

I’d move if I could figure out a place where it’s warm all year but there aren’t hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes, wildfires, or Trumpies. Plus pot has to be legal. No point moving anywhere without that.