Snowstorm of irony. Instant winter. Snowmaggedon. Just a few days before, I'd been riding my bike to work. B with a big snow expected, the people that do these sorts of things at my work had, for first time, marked off with orange traffic cones the long walkway bisecting the parking lot. Ah ha! No one will mistakenly block the walkway by parking their snow-blinded car in its midst. Monday, cones--no snow. Tuesday, cones--no snow. Wednesday, snow--no cones. Parking lot plowed, walkway hidden; cone-less tundra of white obscures all. (There's no obscuring the approach this August of my twelfth anniversary at the bank.)
Thursday, Madeline (Class of '11) would be needing a ride home from school. So I drove to work. Well, tried. Morning, out to the car, turned key, stepped on gas, didn't go anywhere, couldn't even get out of parking spot on street in front of house. (This August marked the house's one-hundredth anniversary.) Spin spin, wiggly wiggly, slide slide. Got the shovel from the front porch, dug out. Wasn't really even that much snow. Escaped, barely. Put the shovel in the back seat. (Grain shovel, bought while living on the farm; used to shovel grain with it.) Almost didn't make it through Fairview windrow at end of block. But did. Barely. Narrowly avoided collision.
Thought was to stop at Nina's on the way to work. Snelling to I-94. Lexington exit. Concordia, across Dale. Right at four-way stop with Marshall, where the Boy Scouts of America have theirs offices--up the hill. Oops. The suspicion Dorothea (one semester away from graduate degree) and I'd had last spring about the Hyundai's tires not being "aggressive" enough for snow--confirmed. I eventually slide sideways and backwards down the hill and followed a hill-less route to work, sans Nina's.
Then, at work, texting with Madeline found out that of course she wouldn't be staying after school. After school activities cancelled--all of them, actually. She'd be taking the school bus home. (In fact, Liam-- eighth grade-- and Lou, our German student-- didn't have school. Canceled.) I was so pissed that, later, home from work when I told Dorothea that we needed new tires, stat. I said then she could move the cars the next morning for the snow emergency. Later she came back, saying she didn't care. Do whatever I wanted about tires. (Stella, cockapoo five people years old in January, noticeably stunned.) Called Tires Plus, drove over there, thinking $300, armed with Dorothea provided coupons; $500. Gleefully drove through all the spots that had given me troubles earlier.
Told Madeline how ironic it seemed to me, the whole bit about driving so I could pick her up. She apologized, said she was sorry. But that wasn't it. Just life. Silver lining--got the tires thing taken care. Just in time, too, as it has gotten really cold. Reminiscent of weather last January for the funeral of Dorothea's mom, Bernice...........
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David
www.schons.net
