Say It Ain't Snow, So (Much Too)

When will the Matron ever learn?

Because Panic and Crisis prevail every first snow.  It is all:  "where are my boots! I need better gloves! Don't you remember that my coat ripped to shreds last year?! I want a BLUE hat not a red one! These boots aren't *right* on me!"

Dear children: no piece of clothing or footware designed to save you from arctic death is *right.* Everything about a boatload of snow way before Thanksgiving is entirely *wrong.* Merrick, your mother is sorry that she forgot that you wore your coat -- literally -- to shreds last year. Of course you did. She will get you a new one. Tonight, it would appear.  

Then there are the texts from the teenager taking the city bus "STILL not here!" and Merrick's return from his bus stop: "I forgot to put shoes in my backpack!" So off she goes, driving Merrick back to the bus while praying that Scarlett's actually comes so that yours turly doesn't have to also drive downtown during their winter rush hour dramas.

Thank Buddha-Oprah-Allah-Universe-God.  The bus came.

Space heaters are now spread throughout the Matron's four story, 2800 square foot, 100 year old house with over 50 windows. Described thus so you understannd when she says "I work from home" this is code for:  " I am wearing wool socks, slippers, jeans, tank top, long-sleeved t-shirt, sweater, sweatshirt and sometimes hat in a wind-blown structure that eats our theoretical retirement savings as monthly heating bill."

If you discover the Matron's head in theoven, it's not because she went all Sylvia Plath. Swear. Just cooking up creative heat here in St. Paul while she waits for the next emergency snow-related text to arrive -- or even better, May