Portrait of a Grown-Up Snow Day

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.

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