Obviously, everyone knows what I’m talking about. If you don’t, maybe it’s time to come out of hibernation, Yogi.
For those that do, allow me a lament of lost youth:
When I was school (elementary and high), 26.9″ inches of snow was reason for celebration. If it was timed properly, you could parlay it into 1, maybe even 2 missed days of school. (Mind you, starting Saturday night, into Sunday, not good timing for missing school.) Those days would be spent having snowball fights, playing snow football (tackle, of course) and generally enjoying not having school. Snowfall like this would mean excitement for Ski days. Snowfall like this was like hitting the lottery.
Now…it sucks. My office doesn’t care what the School District 15 buses are doing, and doesn’t call the HAFTR hotline to find out if schools open. They expect me to come to work. Even if it means one hell of an annoying commute. Now, I don’t have a backyard to go play in, or build a snowman in. Now, snow like this makes me apartment-bound for the large part of the day. That sucks. (Of course, that also related to my being fed-up with living in an apartment, a post for another day.) So, yesterday, I watched the snow from my window, judged snowfall from the car cover on Jewel Avenue, and generally didn’t really get a sense of the historic nature of the snowfall. Then, this morning, I was climbing over wet piles of dirty snow to get to the subway. Uch.
Here’s a better question than do I miss being single: Do I miss being 17?