February 9th, 5pm:
(cell phone call)
“Hey Army Boy.”
“Hey Babe, what’s up?”
“They’re saying it’s going to get really bad… Do you think I have time to grab some clothes and get to your place?”
“Yeah, definitely…Otherwise I won’t see you until when? Thursday? Friday?”
“Totally unacceptable. We’ve gotten the go-ahead to stay and work from home. I’ll be there in an hour.”
February 9th, 9:30pm:
(in the middle of watching Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince)
*I peer out the window*
“It’s still coming down, but we haven’t gotten that much. I’d say two inches?”
“Yeah, I’ll set my alarm and check in tomorrow morning.”
February 10th, 4:30am:
*Army Boy’s phone alarm goes off!*
*I blindly grab it and shove it at him.*
*muted voice of the “weather call-in line”*
“Go back to sleep babe, the depot’s closed today.”
February 10th, 8am:
*My alarm goes off, I get up and stagger to the shower*
*When I get out, Army Boy is awake and bright-eyed!*
“Ready for some breakfast?!”
“What’s it look like out there?”
“Um… Another foot and a half?”
9am: I start working from home. The local channels are totally taken over with coverage of the storm, and there is no “Today Show.” *grumbling in resentment*
10am: TLC, “A Baby Story.”
“Wait… the epidural goes WHERE?!”
“Um, Army Boy? We should change the channel.”
11:00am: Army Boy starts an impromptu exotic dance in response to some trippy music on a commercial. As he attempts to straddle the computer chair, it rocks backward throwing him off balance.
He looks momentarily panicked, but I’ve grabbed his waist.
“Sorry,” he says abashedly, “I’m new here.” *winks*
I laugh my ass off.
12:30pm: Lunch! Brownies seem like a good idea, so I whip up a batch before returning upstairs to go to work.
1:30pm: Army Boy and Brother J go out and shovel. The neighbor asks to borrow some milk, as they’re running out for their baby.
2:45pm: Army Boy comes back in, soaked to the skin and sweaty. I force him to the shower, and also insist on some bottled water.
3:30pm: I think that a fresh brownie sundae is also a vital part of post-shoveling recovery. We may be running alarmingly low on milk, but we are SET for ice cream. As I am a woman, and know best, Army Boy accepts the sundae.
4:00pm: The local news channel is STILL running coverage of the storm. No OPRAH. This is a problem, people.
4:10pm: Army Boy is snoring away, holding a pillow. He has done this since Iraq, and it breaks my heart every time. It’s getting a little chilly in here, so I decide to take a short break and curl up with him. I am so better than a pillow, after all.
5:30pm: Done working. Time to think of something creative to cook for dinner… I’m wishing that I could get outside and take pics, and jump in to see the total depth. I’m still a child like that. It’s getting dark though, and there are two hungry men here. Should probably pray to the Food Network gods for some inspiration.
5:36pm: Watch some of the local news coverage of the Snowpocalypse. The wind is kicking in outside in noisy gusts, and the snow is starting to drift. What? We’re expecting 2-3 more inches?!
6:00pm: Decide to wake up Army Boy, so that he’ll sleep tonite and be ok potentially getting up for work tomorrow. Like that’s likely…
6:30pm: Based on the limited ingredients in the fridge/freezer, we decide on a repeat of scampi from this weekend. Without lemons, I substitute orange juice. Surprisingly, the sweetness makes for a lighter sauce. Army Boy claims to like it better.
8:00pm: My phone rings- It’s Dad, letting me know that he read my post from the other day. As he doesn’t want boobs, he’s avoiding lucky charms from now on.
8:30pm: The local stations are still all “SNOWNAMI!!”. We give up on tv and talk until sleep.