In hindsight, I screwed up. I stayed home last week in my drafty, poorly insulated house during the most consecutive days of near-zero temperatures since 1982. And I'm back out here driving around during what may become the snowiest week of the last two winters. Oh, well. At least this isn't Oswego, N.Y., where they've had 10 to 12 feet of snow in the last eight days, with more on the way.
Everyone should have at least one good winter story, and I have mine -- and I hope it's the last one. I lived in Michigan City in the winter of 1976-77, when a fierce blizzard hit, aided and abedded by the dreaded lake effect. Nobody could get into work by car, so my wife and I decided to walk to the newspaper office. We lived only about three blocks from work, but the trek took over an hour. Because of the wind and snow, we got turned around several times and are probably lucky we didn't wander around until we froze to death -- did I mention it was also bitterly cold? Somehow, enough people straggled in that we managed to get the paper out that day.
When everything had settled down a bit, the plows came out and moved as much of the snow as they could to the side of the roads. It was piled so high that walking down the middle of the street was like being at the bottom of a vast canyon. It was three days before anything but emergency vehilces were on the road.
Hope you're stocked up on milk and bread, which is what everyone seems to think of first when they panic. Me, I'll just make sure I have plenty of coffee and cat food.