First thing I read this morning, on what was supposed to be the opening day of spring semester: Stay the hell home! I may be editorializing a bit, but I’m sure that’s what they meant. After all, hell’s probably coated ice about now. South Texas soon will be.
Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens when rain, which is falling now at my house, hits a frozen road, which if it ain’t yet, soon will be. Temperatures are expected to dip as low as 20 degrees with a stiff north wind blowing, which for anyone who knows this part of the world–20 degrees and a hard wind combined with our always delectable humidity, set to soggy year-round– it ought to feel downright tundra outdoors today.
For a dude who would’ve otherwise two-wheeled it to school today to teach classes (the Harley’s my sole transport), those cancellations were a kindness. I don’t think they make clothes warm enough to endure that kind of weather, nothing you’d find anywhere in THIS part of the world, anyhow.
Still, you can imagine the dirty looks I got this morning when–despite EVERY school closing for miles all around–my wife climbed into the truck today to begin her trek to the Catholic school where she teaches. That’s right. EVERY school for miles around, BUT hers.
The one that’s a good half-hour away, on a good day. A half-hour farther north, I might add. With temperatures expected to fall even more as the hours tick by today. Winter Storm Inga, I just heard it called on the local National Public Radio station. Apparently, it’s so bad they named the damn thing.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s one of those Norwegians ol’ Trump said he wished would come on over to the USA, as opposed to all other “shithole nations.” You just know his staffers must have fight each day they wake up to keep from eating a self inflicted, large-caliber bullet over heading back to the office. Either way, if ol’ Inga’s anything like the last named storm here, we’re screwed.
And despite the cold and all, that look I got as I peered through the window at her as she pulled away would have melted glaciers. Or made a new one the size of the Gulf of Mexico. I’m not sure which, exactly. I know I said earlier it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happens when freezing cold, stiff winds and rains combine. And I also can’t make out which way that might tip the scales for the administrators at her school–they must have either far too many or far too few geniuses thereabouts–but I do hope they got some eyeball action when she got there. I’d hate to think that was all intended directly my way.
Either way, I hated to see her go today, and I can’t say it makes the least bit of sense, considering. Not that sense, common or otherwise, goes into many decisions made at her school. But as I’ve said before, that’s a whole other story. . .
THIS JUST IN: Now that roads are OFFICIALLY icing over and it’s sleeting, she just called to tell me they decided to come back home–they aren’t closing up yet, though. She’s on her way back home now. See what I mean about sense?
For now, it seems a full semester is just not in the cards for me this school year. At this point in the semester last fall, we got paid a visit by some jackass named Harvey and had to spend 10 days camped on our porch, swatting Jurassic mosquitos all day, just to keep from falling over dead from the heat. That bastard shut off our power when he got here.
Seems like about a bajillion years ago now, considering everything that has taken place since. Hard to believe it was just five months ago. Not quite, even. Hopefully, Inga is nothing like Harvey proved to be then. I’m not ready for anything like that again. Ever.
My house on Aug. 26, 2017, after Hurricane Harvey blew through town to begin my school year, leaving us powerless, swarmed by gargantuan, swamp-thing mosquitos, and cut off from the rest of civilization for 10 days straight. And we didn’t have it bad, nothing like others did around town or neighboring communities, anyway. Some still don’t have a place to live.