The TV is playing in my room down the hall, tag-team coverage of the overnight snow and/or ice followed by sleet and/or rain. Things could have been worse but it's still a non-stop litany of snow, slush, downed power lines and car crashes.
Sections of the interstates are down to a one-lane crawl and smiling reporters, warned by the TV station's Traffic Center, report the worst live from the front passenger seat while driving around the mess on frontage roads.
Tamara, as is her usual wont, has taken over the room for the morning. She complains, "Spring will never come! We're locked into an eternal hell of gray slush!"
I'm at the computer with my breakfast, in the room at the other end of the short hallway. "Shaddup!" I tell her, 'cos I'm classy like that, and I had just been thinking we were getting near the end of the worst of winter, or at least the beginning of the end.
The next reporter up opens her spiel with the happy thought that Daylight Savings Time starts in just three weeks.
Tamara sings out, "Hallelujah! We're saved!" as earnestly as any churchgoer.
I smile. I loathe DST -- on the far western edge of the Eastern time zone, Indiana's already ahead of the sun by nearly an hour -- but Tam's dislike of winter overwhelms her at times and this one hasn't been one of the sunniest. An extra hour of light at the end of the day when she's awake to appreciate it will do her a world of good.
He Worked On A Starship
2 months ago