Greetings, my fellow port swillers and happy Feast of the Epiphany!
Port Swiller Manor and environs were supposed to be buried under our first measurable snowfall of the season overnight – up to an inch, they predicted – but woke up this morning to what even Jim “Mimbo” Cantore, in his most eye-rolling, chest-thumping, tongue-swallowing passion, probably could just barely bring himself to call a “light dusting”. Feh.
Personally, I blame ManBearPig. Serial, you guys!
As a matter of fact, I was genuinely hoping that Ma Nature would perform as advertised, because I reckoned the elder Gels could get in a little useful practice driving in a small amount of the stuff. This is one of ol’ Robbo’s perennial frets, so I really was rayther disappointed. I suppose we’ll have to wait for the next one.
Another source of disappointment was the fact that I didn’t get the sense of panic that usually engulfs the Imperial City at the first sign of a snowflake. Oh, sure, our school district chickened out and cancelled all evening activities yesterday, and I got stuck behind several sand trucks on the way home, but I happened to stop by the store and saw no signs whatever of shortages of t-paper or batteries, or of moms fighting to the death over the last half gallon of 2% milk.
Ol’ Robbo’s a traditionalist and likes to see customs kept, and I’m not sure why we didn’t have our fun this time. Who knows? Perhaps either this place is beginning to wise up to its own foolishness, or else it’s so focused on the approach of Storm Donald that it doesn’t have time for other distractions.
UPDATE: Well, we got our inch or so a day late. Ol’ Robbo spent about 45 minutes clearing off the driveway and scattering salt. Teh Gels met it all with a collective “meh”.