We’re having one of those days where everybody runs around like chickens with their heads cut off because some weather man said something. In this case, there’s supposed to be an ice storm. It was supposed to get here late tonight…. then, you know… around midnight. Now, it’s been pushed back to somewhere in the neighborhood of nine o’clock tomorrow morning.

I’m not holding my breath. Don’t get me wrong, I’m prepared-ish. Grown-up prepared, anyway. I have enough protein powder and… uhh, whatever that green powdered thing is to outlast any storm.

It’s just that… at this point… I don’t believe there’s going to be a storm. I think there’s something about the distance between us and the doppler station that causes distortions. They estimate, and estimate, and re-estimate, and in the end, the things that are supposed to hit us usually do wind up missing.

Don’t tell  the newbies that, though. When something finally does hit, they won’t be prepared, if they know.

I could stand a couple of days well and truly snowed in, iced under, burning the furniture for warmth writing time. Or…you know… snowed in, but natural gas and internet still works time off from the day job.

I wish it were going to happen.

Well, I’ve planned ahead. If I’m snowed in, fine. If I’m not, well… I’m disappointed, but I suppose that’s life.

It was nearly 50 degrees earlier. Now it’s back in the twenties.

We’ll just see about that