Yesterday morning looked like early spring. No snow, warm-ish temps. Yesterday afternoon it began to snow. The forecast was for 3 to 5 inches. Then it was for 4 to 6. The snow came down very fast, very thick, and in HUGE snowflakes. At one point, I opened the front door to check on the snow and I could barely see across the yard to the cul-de-sac because of how thickly the snow was falling.
By all reports the roads became completely impassable and stayed that way. This morning isn't much better, according to the news.
And that 4 to 6 inches? Became 8 to 10. The official tally is 8.4 inches; we smashed the record for this date that went back to 1929 and saw 3.0 inches of snowfall. Out here in the 'burbs we're looking at somewhere around 9 or 10 inches.
Phil was not only wrong, he must have been hallucinating on LSD.
This morning I have to start digging us out and Scot can't help me. I haven't mentioned this here but he had surgery last week on his wrist and he's still in a very large bandage. He can't shovel snow. What's more, his post-op follow up appointment is today and he can't miss it because he has to get that very large bandage removed. I have to find a way to juggle the kids this morning so I can go out and dig out the driveway enough for him to get to his appointment.
The icing on this little pile of cow chips is that Jamie had me up multiple times last night - the last of which was at 5:30 am. I was never able to get back to sleep after that. So, I'm tired, I'm cranky, I'm stuck in the house with two kids with cabin fever and a husband who is one-handed for the 5th day running.
Send me Phil's pelt. I will fashion a hat from it that I will wear as a jaunty chapeau as I swill myself into insensibility.
UPDATE: I measured while I was shoveling this morning.
8.5 inches of snow does not equal an early spring, Phil. Not hardly. I think you need a new job.