behold the power

I am so over winter.

I was over winter in November. When the first snow fell, uninvited, and Adam and I spent 3 hours in the car on a trip to Costco (for cheese) that should have taken not more than 15 minutes.

The first 10 minutes being a somewhat uneventful ride other than my usual freaking out as my PTSD over snow and ice reared up bile in my throat and turned my knuckles so white, I thought they might crack open and bleed. If all the blood wasn't distracted pumping through my eyes and ears.

The next 5 or so minutes were a dark and mysterious whirlwind around a Costco taking advantage of its generator power. At this point, it was almost kind of cool - this adventure. We were jewelry bandits, sneaking our way through a gem warehouse full of security lasers, every unknown man a possible guard on duty. Fun, right?

Not for long.

Is every road in this town an upwards hill? It reminded me of my Pop's stories about having to walk to school in the snow and ice and wind, uphill both ways. I had no idea how ridiculously uneven this place is.

Over the course of the next 2 hours and 45 minutes, I think we tried just about every possible way home. It felt like The Day After Tomorrow out there. Every man for himself. The number of near misses was a pure miracle compared to what could have been, having seen the havoc in Seattle later in the news. Or the insanity that was Chicago last month. I did see a fair amount of Good Samaritan toiling going on. But, for the most part, it was as if Kitsap County suddenly gave free cars to monkeys. Blind monkeys. Blind monkeys with their hands tied behind their backs. One woman probably melted her entire engine together, screeching her way up Bucklin Hill. I'm thinking. . ."Was the cheese worth this?"

Adam is quite the trooper - as calm as I could ask him to be (and I never had to ask) he merely trial-and-errored our way through it. Of course, anyone's nerves are bound to fray when you're forced to stop on a hill you've got a good head-start on because a load of civilians are ice skating around your vehicle and performing the international sign for "excuse me, do you have any grey poupon?" then informing you that you need to sit tight so a sand truck can get through and help the roads out a bit.

False.

We made it to the top of the hill, because there's no way human beings are going to listen to other human beings, let alone human beings who are not wearing some sort of outfit to signify any authority. . .and the truck is sitting there. Sitting there. There's plenty of room for it. And it's sitting there. With the driver nowhere to be found. Pfff. In the radio edited words of Cee Lo Green, forget you.

Eventually, we decide we probably need to abandon the car. Absolutely not on the street or in a ditch somewhere. I'm thinking to myself, "I can see it now. . .arriving the next morning in the dawn of a new day when this world has re-emerged and everyone feels slightly embarrassed at their doomsday behavior. . .and my car is totaled - smashed by a secret assailant who probably thinks it's okay because we can just blame it on the weather and no one's really at fault here."

My mind's eye is way too exact at cooking up possible scenarios. So, okay. . .let's find a parking lot. Well, we're far from the commercial district at this point so aside from borrowing someone's yard, what do we do?

Finally, we make it to the fairgrounds and park in the playground lot and enjoy the last half hour or 40 minutes, trudging through the snow on an unlit street in the howling wind, anticipating a face full of pine needles every time the trees sway. Like I need a physical reminder of this night.

We're almost home. You know what, you try crossing a skate rink with no functioning traffic lights. Hey guy who beeped at us! Not cool! It's a stroke of luck I actually wore my new and ludicrously warm boots. Poor Adam and his measly tennis shoes.

Ah. Home again, home again.

Oh yeah. No electricity.

But thank God we've got cheese.