Yes, we are making history. I mean, we’re not, but the weather we are surviving certainly is. I even heard that the grand total snowfall has reached 53 inches over the past few days. Phrases like “snowpocalypse,” “white-out conditions,” “citywide power outages,” and “record-breaking snowfall” have flooded the airwaves as we hole up inside our home and hope for the best. Hope that the roof can hold foot upon foot of snow. Hope that the ice dam causing leaks in our kitchen and bathroom doesn’t cause too much damage. Hope that none of the numerous tree limbs that have been falling left and right do not find their way onto a power line. Hope, hope, hope. And then, not care. Because we are all fine. We have power, we have water, we have warmth and food and games to play.
When the snow finally stopped falling today and the winds died down, Andrew took Milo out to re-dig their snow fort, now covered with an additional 10 or so inches. I’ve lost track of the amount. There is a lot. More than I have ever ever ever seen. Neighbors went out for the third time to dig their cars out, but I don’t know why. There is no place to go. Roads unplowed, stores closed, the federal government closed for the third consecutive day. What’s the point? So we are saving our energy for igloos, hot chocolate, and “bear-cave” building with pillows, blankets, and chairs. We are saving our energy for an indoor gymnaseum built from couches and a fouton mattress and all the pillows we own. And laundry. And I can say that being forced to stay put for a few days with my three favorite men is just delightful.