We finally had our first snow of the season here in New England. In typical New England fashion, they predicted a dusting and we ended up with three inches. Not that three inches is anything, but it sure isn't a dusting. One of my co-workers is from Virginia and I think this is her first winter as a New Englander. She was saying yesterday afternoon how she's heard all about these New England winters and the snow and how she was beginning to think we were all lying.
I'll have to ask her how her walk to the train station after work yesterday was.
My cubicle is so secluded from the outside world, I had no idea it was even snowing until I left the building yesterday. On my way out someone was saying to me how people always forget how to drive the first time it snows and there would probably be a lot of accidents out there. She wished me luck driving home. I gave her a look like she was crazy, since the last time I looked outside there were like, two flakes on the ground. Then I stepped outside. And cried a little. And got out my Sno Brum.
The driving wasn't terrible, but people were crawling along the highway like idiots. There was a lot of road gunk flying up on my windshield and my windshield wiper fluid was frozen. So this morning, when I couldn't see through the road spit congealing on my windshield, I said to myself, "Self, you know how to put windshield wiper fluid in your car because you are A Modern Woman. Why don't you stop at the gas station and buy some so you can see and don't crash and die?" So that's exactly what I did. Only I couldn't get the hood of my car open. I know how to pop it, but I couldn't find that damn latch to open it all the way. It wasn't where I thought it would be (aka, in the correct location). Then my fingers got cold. And I have grease under my fingernail. And the not very kind Samaritan in the big pickup truck next to me didn't offer to help. So I said "Screw this!" chucked the bottle of windshield wiper fluid in the car, and drove off with zero visibility.
I figure I can try again after work. Or lurk in the parking lot looking distressed until someone helps me. This Modern Woman would rather be a Trophy Wife.