Already So Sn-over-It
I am EX-HAUST-ED.
I have no prep left in me.
I cannot make one more trip to the grocery store. Just typing the word “store” gave me a pit in my stomach. When you have three teenage boys, you can’t stock the shelves. The food just pours through the sieve that is their stomachs and the pantry is bare again T-24 hours before THE EVENT. I have snacks hidden everywhere with a carefully coordinated release plan using forecasts, wind speed and accumulation estimates. It is truly apocalyptic, people, if the writer girl is using math and science formulas to avoid buying even one more bag of Doritos.
Last year the boys began a fledgling shoveling business. They had a few standing gigs which kept them busy on the days off and put some coin in their pocket. It also got my 16-year old out of bed which is priceless. We now need Excel spreadsheets, subcontractors and a CFO to manage the boom that Stiles Shoveling Inc. has experienced in the last two days. This weekend, we will be conducting a social experiment entitled Greed vs Work Ethic in the Average Teen. Results will be posted in this space.
With all that shoveling, outdoor gear is a concern. Of course, I am the only one even remotely worried because my kids don a hooded sweatshirt with a pair of Timberlands and think they are overdressed. Since they are apparently going to be shoveling like a chain gang, they will each need two coats, two pair of waterproof pants and countless pairs of waterproof gloves. We currently have 300 gloves in the house but none of them match.
I am pleading temporary blizzard-induced inanity for my trip to Kmart yesterday. I needed a winter coat for my 15-year old and whatever accessories would alleviate my guilt about selling my kids into shoveling slavery. There were only two coats left that were waterproof instead of pleather. I grabbed the lone XL and immediately all other shoppers looked like shifty, shady characters. I was starting to develop a facial tic with that healthy dose of paranoia so I put the coat I was buying on. I left my old lady coat in the cart and wore that coat two sizes too big all over the store so no one would steal it. I wandered down the hunting aisle and picked up three bright orange knit hats with only a cut out for the mouth. YES!! My kids might look like they were robbing a bank but they’ll be warm!
There might be therapy in order come the spring thaw.
We have gassed up, spent nearly as much as we did on Christmas presents (when it was a balmy 65 degrees) hit the liquor store, prayed to the Pepco gods to show us favor and are officially hunkering down.
Where will all this doomsday prep get us? Stay tuned as I chronicle our storm adventures and find out!