Stonewalling the Snow: February 23, 2007

In which Stonewall Jackson and snowstorms reoccur.

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Life

Stonewall Jackson (source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NSRW_Stonewall_Jackson.png) What is it with Stonewall Jackson lately? Everywhere I turn, I see his name — on Jeopardy!, on my mailing lists, even mentioned in books and articles that have nothing at all to do with the Civil War. Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the goddamned trees already, because otherwise he will never leave me alone. Just my luck to be haunted by one-armed Confederate generals.

On second thought, maybe I will cross the river and hang out over there for awhile, because I’d really like to avoid this gimongous winter storm that’s heading my way. I’m not really sure how seriously I should take the media’s Chicken-Little franticness; on the one hand, I think they’re blowing it out of proportion since we’ve had very little snow this winter and they really want to use their “winter snowstorm” graphics, but on the other hand, they’re predicting a foot. (Hee.) So far, I have chosen to err on the side of panic, because I have combined Norwegian-Russian-Jewish-Lutheran ancestry and am therefore genetically predisposed to apocalyptic pessimism. I have already created a detailed scenario in my mind: we get two feet of snow, the weight of which causes our roof to cave in during the early morning hours, crushing us in bed, rendering my husband unconscious and concussed and leaving me to struggle free alone, which will be very hard to do with my cracked ribs and collapsed left lung, not to mention that one of my arms will be pinned in such a way that I’ll have to amputate it with an emory board. (Oh! Hey! Stonewall Jackson tie-in!)

Fortunately, my genetic heritage has not just given me a ridiculously inflated sense of doom; it has also given me a good, solid practical streak, which is perfectly capable of doing battle with the pessimistic streak and, if not outright winning, at least wrestling it into submission. I have therefore spent the day doing very practical pre-apocalypse things, like taking out the garbage (so I don’t have to bundle up and struggle through knee-high snow later on), doing the dishes (in case the pipes freeze up and we have no water), cleaning the litterpan (so we’re not trapped inside with the Smell of Death all weekend), and eating all the leftovers in the fridge (because all those chores made me hungry, dammit). Not that I don’t do all of those things anyway, but it takes on an entirely different flavor when the Great Storm of 2007 is bearing down on you. This could be the last load of laundry I ever do! The last bag of garbage I ever take out! The last leftover pizza I ever eat! I COULD BE DEAD TOMORROW!

Or I could be snug inside, sipping a cup of hot cocoa and watching the snow-laden squirrels fall from the trees. You never know.