Monday, February 06, 2006
Winter returns with a vengeance
By the end of last week, all of our snow had gone. We got a winter storm watch on Saturday calling for 10 to 15 cm. They called it off but we got 5 or 6 inches anyway late in the day. My daughter drove home from the city and passed accident after accident. She was wondering if she was going to make it home OK. A woman slide into a canal near here and died along with her young son.
Sunday morning, my son inspected the driveway. There was a hip-high snowbank at the road so he and my husband dug it out. I missed rehearal before church but made it in time for the service. When I get home after our annual meeting, there is another snowbank in the driveway courtesy of the snowplow, but I barrel my way through a small opening in my little Chevy Malibu.
This morning, I was ready to leave a bit earlier than I thought I would be, just enough time to catch a previous bus. That is, until I see my car. There is at least 6 inches of fresh powder on it. I clean it off and resign myself to catch the later bus. I get to the parking lot and the earlier bus is just arriving. He's running late himself. I park my car in a snowbank (someone should get on the MTO about the parking contractor for this lot) and run for the bus. I get to work in the usual time.
At noon, my husband phones to say we've gotten another 6 inches of powder. I have to stay late because I've been waiting a day and a half to talk to an application developer about a problem we're having with repatriating a website. I look out the office window while I'm talking to him, and it's a blizzard outside. We reach the end of our conversation. He's given me some ideas about the cause of the problem, but I know I'm now not going to make the 6:05 at Yorkdale. I run out the door.
I get to Yorkdale at 6:07. I think I've just missed the bus so I make a pitstop. Then it hits me that the bus might be late too. I go the platform, and there's a bus there. It's the 5:50, only 20 minutes late. I get to my car at the carpool parking lot, and there's another 8 inches of powder on my car. I get to my driveway, and there's more than a foot of powder on it, but no snowbank in the entrance. Meanwhile a private plow has been tailing me up the road. I should have let him pass. My husband had called him. I make it in OK, but he had to follow me all the way in. Thank God for front wheel drive.
D.
Sunday morning, my son inspected the driveway. There was a hip-high snowbank at the road so he and my husband dug it out. I missed rehearal before church but made it in time for the service. When I get home after our annual meeting, there is another snowbank in the driveway courtesy of the snowplow, but I barrel my way through a small opening in my little Chevy Malibu.
This morning, I was ready to leave a bit earlier than I thought I would be, just enough time to catch a previous bus. That is, until I see my car. There is at least 6 inches of fresh powder on it. I clean it off and resign myself to catch the later bus. I get to the parking lot and the earlier bus is just arriving. He's running late himself. I park my car in a snowbank (someone should get on the MTO about the parking contractor for this lot) and run for the bus. I get to work in the usual time.
At noon, my husband phones to say we've gotten another 6 inches of powder. I have to stay late because I've been waiting a day and a half to talk to an application developer about a problem we're having with repatriating a website. I look out the office window while I'm talking to him, and it's a blizzard outside. We reach the end of our conversation. He's given me some ideas about the cause of the problem, but I know I'm now not going to make the 6:05 at Yorkdale. I run out the door.
I get to Yorkdale at 6:07. I think I've just missed the bus so I make a pitstop. Then it hits me that the bus might be late too. I go the platform, and there's a bus there. It's the 5:50, only 20 minutes late. I get to my car at the carpool parking lot, and there's another 8 inches of powder on my car. I get to my driveway, and there's more than a foot of powder on it, but no snowbank in the entrance. Meanwhile a private plow has been tailing me up the road. I should have let him pass. My husband had called him. I make it in OK, but he had to follow me all the way in. Thank God for front wheel drive.
D.
