who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

    It's the evening of Day 2 of The Blizzard of 2011, and I am heartily sick of the whole ordeal. On the one hand, it was definitely the biggest, nastiest winter storm I've ever seen, without a doubt. The event itself was fascinating, in a horrible way. It's peoples' reaction to it that's so tiresome. A small minority of my Facebook friends - not real friends, for the most part, but those people who crop up that you can't seem to say No to, but you don't really want to say Yes to, either - are in the "it's no big deal, meteorologists are doomsayers, I'm going out driving around to see the snow" camp. They're clearly divorced from reality, since this storm has its own Wikipedia page. (No, I didn't create it just for dramatic effect.) Not only are they failing to see what's happening right outside, but they're also potentially putting emergency workers (plow drivers, ambulance drivers, EMTs, cops) at risk because they can't take someone else's - an expert's, even - word for it. That's pretty damned selfish.

    Their opposite members are freaking out that "no one told me how bad it would be!", and were apparently very surprised by the magnitude and impact of the storm on their individual lives. This Associated Press article, posted on Yahoo.com, includes one very telling line: "Some motorists came away angry, frustrated and puzzled at why the city didn't close the crucial thoroughfare earlier, or why officials didn't anticipate that a bus accident could clog it up like a cork in a bottle."

    I've known that this storm was coming since roughly Friday. I've been watching the forecasts since then, getting ready for it. I bought groceries on Saturday. I made sure that I had adequate reading material (ha!). I even thought to talk with my parents about it, so that they wouldn't freak out when it hit because they'd know I was prepared. I was at work on Tuesday until 2:30, but I had The Weather Channel and NOAA sites on in the background of my computer so that I could click over now and then. If something unexpected had come up, I would have known. Because I am the only one who is ultimately responsible for my safety--not the boss, not those weather sites, not the local law enforcement or government, not the National Weather Service. Just me. So if I was stupid enough to put myself in danger by driving around in the middle of a declared blizzard (and eventually a state of emergency, for God's sake), I definitely wouldn't blame anyone but myself. You don't have to shut down the streets just so I won't be f---ing dumb enough to drive on them through 16" of snow. I'll make that logical leap on my own.

    It's been a really long day - I'm getting stir-crazy from being in such close proximity to the Neighbor from Hell for so long, unabated. I'm finding that she can't be awake without having the TV on, so All. Damn. Day. it's been Spanish gameshows, Spanish soap operas, Spanish talk shows, and (rather jarringly) Dr. Phil (in English). Interspersed with phone calls, during which she can't say enough good stuff about her boyfriend, who's pushing 60.

    I got her back (not really) by watching about half of one of my favorite movies, The Brylcreem Boys. I selected it in honor of the dark hero, Count Rudolph von Stegenbek, played by Angus Macfadyen. Macfayden just launched what hopes to be a recurring character on Criminal Minds: Sean McAllister. I turned off the movie while this week's CM episode was on; it involved lots of screaming and knifing; I'm sure that sounded great through the wall. Not that my TV's volume is ever set to "blaring."

    I really have had a very long day. Have I mentioned that? Very long. VERY. Apart from one text conversation, which ranged from menstruation to job interviewing to the weather (of course) to sex, I've been roaming the island alone. I was joking the other day about getting a ferret. Maybe it would be a good idea, just to have somebody around. (Nah.)

 

[title quotation by William Shakespeare, from Macbeth, act II scene iii]