We had a very laid back weekend. With his busted foot, we made some modifications to our normal Saturday schedule of working, working out, and doing the weekly shopping and chores. As of last Wednesday, the plan was to stay home and do absolutely nothing on Saturday, opting to skip his normal Saturday shift and stay off the foot. Instead, we would do everything on Sunday, which would give him a solid day of not jamming the still swollen and colorfully bruised foot into a shoe.
However, the local weather forecast started to indicate that snow was on the way for Sunday. We shuffled things around a little and went shopping on Friday after work. I’m not certain how it is in other northern climates, but here in New England the merest hint of snowflakes within the next few days causes us to lose our fucking minds. Locals descend upon the grocery stores, raiding their coolers and shelves for milk and bread, as though these two ingredients will hold them through the approaching blizzard apocalypse. And the best part? No one knows why we pillage entire stores for them. Not a fucking clue. My mother holds to the theory that while these foods won’t keep us alive, they instead keep us from killing each other when we’re stuck inside a house. Children stuck inside when school is cancelled can be distracted with sandwiches, and their parents can continue to put milk in their coffee and keep caffeinated.
But, back to Friday’s shopping.
We debated which day would be worse, going Friday or Saturday evening, or Sunday morning. The snow was forecast to start late on Sunday, which meant Sunday morning would be insanity. Saturday mornings can already be a hairy experience, depending on the time. We opted to go after work on Friday, correctly assuming that it was enough time before the first flakes and it wouldn’t be much different than any other Friday at 6pm. It worked out well for us, but won’t be something we do regularly.
The rest of the weekend was nice. Laid back, like I said. We spent an hour or so playing Boss Monster. I watched some video tutorials on playing with my light whip, and we put some books on his new Kindle. The weekend dinners were a two-night process, where we made a damned tasty pork roast on Saturday night and used its bone for a stock that became the base for a split pea soup on Sunday.
It seemed that as laid back as the weekend was, the two of us had built up our expectations for a couple of things. First, the pea soup. He mentioned a few weeks back that he wanted to try making it, it was something he remembered liking as a kid. We got his mom to send us her recipe. And then? Meh. It was a bowl of mushy peas with chunks of pork roast in it. It wasn’t bad, and I love peas so I definitely didn’t turn my nose up at it. But will we make it again? Probably not with that recipe. In my case, I had built up the idea of taking my light whip outside and looking like a magical snow pixie. Narrator: she did not look like a magical snow pixie.
And, the forecast said we could expect about 4-6″ of snow. We ended up with around 13″ at our house. He called out, because our street wasn’t plowed, and chances were good most of the roads to his work would be in a similar condition. I tried to convince my boss to let me stay home, but she was having none of that and we settled for me just coming in late.
This weekend, while it’s still a bit away, looks like we can expect to receive more snow. I’m so fucking ready for Spring.
