Snowy Day

This afternoon it snowed. Wet, sticky, clinging snow. It started early this afternoon with what my grandmother had forever called “snizzle” (snow and drizzle mixed) when she delivered weather reports from her cozy (real estate code for ‘tiny’) apartment on the 14th floor of the senior high rise. She was something else, that one. Decades ahead of the rest. I cracked up when I heard a TV meteorologist use the word about 20 years later.

I had mocked the school system’s early release day when it hit noon and not a drop of precipitation was falling. But once the snizzle hit, it turned to snow and started sticking on the grass and the cars. The roads were wet, but it was cold, so it was likely they’d be slick in no time. We’d received word earlier from one of the partners to use our discretion about staying at the office. When the snizzle started, I chose to skip lunch just in case we left early, and by 3:30, most of us were packing up to leave.

Back in October or November during a routine oil change that turned into a full-blown brake job, the technician cautioned that my tires were, in his words “bald,” and “should be replaced before the winter sets in.” You mean they aren’t supposed to be all smooth and flat on the edges? Hmmm. I didn’t have the money then to fork out for four tires and I still don’t, so it hasn’t been done. And up until now, I’ve been pretty lucky with the weather and road conditions not being all that bad.

After resisting the urge to start flinging snowballs at the graphic designer getting into her car across the parking lot, I cleaned my own car and headed out. Slowly. Tentatively. Not at all like I usually drive.

As I crept across town with the rest of the traffic, tense and fearful with my tread-free tires, I realized I had suddenly become one of those people who drive too slow, like the classic 100 year old crypt keeper in the vintage Cadillac, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I still feel the sting from the $6,000 little auto accident in 2009, every time I see the mismatch of old and new paint on the rear quarter from halfway across a parking lot.

A potential detour to the grocery store for milk and food was nixed on the assumption there were probably a hundred other people there, and I was not going to starve. I’d made extra rice last night, and there is powdered coffee creamer for morning coffee.

At my new elderly driver’s pace, the roads seemed pretty good all the way to the front of my house – at the same spot where a driver crashed into my cedar tree and mowed down my mailbox one icy night in the winter of 2008. Yikes. The antilock braking system kicked in on the approach to the hard right hand turn into the steep driveway and potential slide directly into the woods. Fortunately, the shift from D to 2 worked, the CRV with bald tires did not transform into a bobsled, and I maneuvered the car around to face up the driveway for a straight line out the morning.

Once inside the house, I spent the remaining hour of daylight goofing on the computer and watching the snow continue to fall. It was pretty. It was quiet. It collected on the trees and the ground and covered everything in a fluffy blanket. Moose snoozed on my lap and on the floor next to my chair and behind me on the chair. When he finally went outside to potty, the poor little guy was knee deep in snow trying to do his business. It was funny. Well, probably not to him. And the snow is still pretty.