I got a job (more on this later -- the person I'm replacing hasn't been fired yet and I haven't signed a contract, so when I start the job, it will receive its own special attention). I was supposed to go do all the new-teacher stuff on Friday. I was a little worried, because the snow started up here on Thursday around 4 and wasn't supposed to stop until Saturday. Well, I thought, I'm sure I'll be fine. At the same time, I was praying to make the right decisions and not, you know, die.
Fortunately for me and everyone else, the school was closed that day. So I sat at home and looked out the window as the snow fell ALL FREAKING DAY LONG. I'm not convinced that we got as much as at my parents' house, which apparently got approximately twenty-seven feet. But when snow is falling all over the Wasatch Front and you live on a sparsely-populated street in a rural community, well, you get plowed twice in 24 hours. Maybe. That is not enough to keep up with the snowfall. Not, I am quick to add, that it is the fault of those paragons of virtue, the snowplowdrivers. No, they just had a lot to do.
Zane took Sabrina skiing yesterday near the end of the storm. He said she did great on the groomed areas, but the powder, in some places, was up to her waist. She may have whined, just a little.
It was nice to see the snowplow last night and the sun this morning. Although I do feel a strange yearning to read The Long Winter in the comfort of my warm, well-lit, well-stocked house with no animals to take care of. The best way to celebrate Snowmaggedon.