Crazy: Trapped Like a Rat
Hello all. Blogging slowly these past few days as Washington, D.C. attempts to emerge from underneath a 22 inch blanket of snow. Federal goverment, every school in the land and just about everything else is closed. Presumably, my esteemed editor Mr. Oliver G______ is stranded somewhere between here and North Carolina's triad. I, however, have had the mixed blessing of being trapped inside my house, like a tiny mammal with nothing more than a brain stem and instincts. I have consumed Scrabble, I have made plans to break out of the house but had them foiled, I have made Jell-O, butterless brownies, assisted in the preparation of home-made tomato sauce (pounds of which are sitting, batched in our freezer as I type), painstakingly rebuild a shattered box of jumbo shells and stuffed them with a cheese mixture. I've attempted to retrieve a car from the ice-pack, and I've borrowed (and nearly broken) two snow shovels (mine is long gone). Yesterday, in desperation I, along with some neighbors, worked like marooned space-travellers committed to their last chance on a long-disregarded seven horsepower snowblower that was buried under 3 feet of blown and drifted snow behind a home in our community. We rigged up an elaborate extension-cord electric starter mechanism, revealed our collective non-knowledge about what a choke does on a four-stroke engine, and we pressed some emergency-room clothing-removal shears to obliterate the old tarpaulin that shrouded the snowblower.
Please, someone, anyone, send help. We've eaten through many of our provisions, and I'm down to only one box of Cheez-it.
Will post more as sanity ebbs.
Hello all. Blogging slowly these past few days as Washington, D.C. attempts to emerge from underneath a 22 inch blanket of snow. Federal goverment, every school in the land and just about everything else is closed. Presumably, my esteemed editor Mr. Oliver G______ is stranded somewhere between here and North Carolina's triad. I, however, have had the mixed blessing of being trapped inside my house, like a tiny mammal with nothing more than a brain stem and instincts. I have consumed Scrabble, I have made plans to break out of the house but had them foiled, I have made Jell-O, butterless brownies, assisted in the preparation of home-made tomato sauce (pounds of which are sitting, batched in our freezer as I type), painstakingly rebuild a shattered box of jumbo shells and stuffed them with a cheese mixture. I've attempted to retrieve a car from the ice-pack, and I've borrowed (and nearly broken) two snow shovels (mine is long gone). Yesterday, in desperation I, along with some neighbors, worked like marooned space-travellers committed to their last chance on a long-disregarded seven horsepower snowblower that was buried under 3 feet of blown and drifted snow behind a home in our community. We rigged up an elaborate extension-cord electric starter mechanism, revealed our collective non-knowledge about what a choke does on a four-stroke engine, and we pressed some emergency-room clothing-removal shears to obliterate the old tarpaulin that shrouded the snowblower.
Please, someone, anyone, send help. We've eaten through many of our provisions, and I'm down to only one box of Cheez-it.
Will post more as sanity ebbs.
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