White out


If its snowing when you wake, check your son’s school web portal. Chances are that school’s out. The school or the transport authority can’t risk being sued if there is even a minor accident.

If you are workin’ like I am, you wait. And pray that the fookin’ snow doesn’t stop. You don’t tell the little kid at home you might not be goin’. Let it be a complete surprise to him. Then when its right about time for you ta leave, you call the boss and show him your middle finger over the phone. Don’t worry, your boss can’t see your middle finger through the phone line, silly.

Don’t say, “Hey, boss, can’t make it. Tell Canada it’s GDP growth will have to suffer a small blimp this afternoon. It’ll still remain in the Gee-Ate.” Be poalight. Make it sound like massive odds are piled up against your going to work. Tell him ‘the highway has a pile-up’. Then, under your breath, just out of his hearing, mutter the remaining part of your sentence, ‘just waitin’ ta happen’. You don’t want ta be a liar.

Having wrapped that up, walk slowly toward the fridge at a tangent, like you’re going some place else, not to the fridge. Veer at the last minute like those Nascar drivers, whip open the fridge, swipe a beer and race down the stairs to the den, befoah yore ol’ lady has the time to figure anything out.

Then remember the kid I was referring to earlier? Get him to bring you refills from time to time. He’ll be so thrilled you’re stayin’ back, he won’t mind runnin’ errands for ya. Stay put in the den. You’re safe there from tyranny. And that’s where the TeeVee is. Barricade yoreself if you have ta.

If you’re by the window, keep your eye on a branch, preferably a thin scrawny one. The snow keeps on piling up along the top and it starts slowly sagging under the weight. After a while, the branch begins bobbing up and down trying to hold the weight of the snow over it, till the snow pile reaches a tipping point and spills over. Relieved of the weight, the branch bounces back to its original orientation and the cycle begins all over.

If you’re 59, the behavior of the branch might make you a bit philosophical and even take your mind off sex (briefly). Otherwise, enjoy your beer and post the kid, the one I spoke about earlier on, have him stand guard at the foot of the basement staircase. He’ll do it, he’s so thrilled you’re here and all.

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