This afternoon I got dressed to head outside for some quick errands: drop off some DVDs at the library; stop at the market across the street from the library for some milk; shovel out the steps and the walk.
To some extent, the same is true after Snowpocalypseageddon here in Greater Boston. Everyone has already fought for the last loaf of bread or gallon of milk, so the next thing to fight over is parking spots. And boy, do people get medieval about those.
You may not know this (I am assuming a lot of Amish read our blog), but we are going to get a lot of snow very soon.
Yes, clearly we are already headed for the history books on this one and it hasn’t even happened yet. I think we have already broken records, mostly in regard to media hype. “I’ll take apocalyptic references to the Blizzard of 1978 for $500, Alex.” The French Toast alert system is so far into red that it’s gone way into the infrared spectrum. Everywhere I go, it’s Blizzard Freakout mode, and the handful of people being reflective are talking about the big one of 1978. It’s like I am attending a history conference about that massive weather event of my childhood.
Well, after we had the original Snowpocalypseageddon event two years ago, I figured since that was so epic it might be a while before we have anything like that again. But I was wrong, apparently. Looks like we are in for quite a doozy tomorrow night. And to make matters worse, winds will be blowing so hard that we may actually meet the official criteria for this to be a blizzard.
Anyone who knows me well knows that when it comes to football, I am decidedly… meh. I just never got into the sport the way that so many other people (like Kelly) have. Baseball is another story. I love it. Even hockey and soccer are sports I care WAY more about than football. But still, I look forward to whenever the Pats go the Superbowl, because that inevitably means people I know will be throwing great parties with lots of beer, wings, and general awesomeness.
So this year the upcoming wingstravaganza Superbowl party seems to be dominated by talk about this mess regarding the slight under-inflation of footballs. And frankly, I am a bit puzzled by the whole thing.
Last night the temperature dropped well into the teens, and it hardly felt any warmer this morning when I got up and went to work. So it’s safe to say that winter is no longer just coming, it’s here, and we got our new hot water heater just in time. Hot water is essential for winter survival – just ask the Starks of Winterfell.
Every winter is a new adventure here in Cambridge. Not for us, really, because we have seen New England winters, but for so many of the students around here that hail from sunnier climes. Many of them tend to not know what to make of serious winter weather, especially when they are driving.