This is not
going to be a long entry, because who wants to hear me talk about the weather? Nobody.
Okay, I can't resist saying it - no, I'm going to resist. Self-depreciation can be funny (I hope), but I know I carry it way too far.
Anyway, the weathermen last night (Thursday) were warning of a high-energy winter storm on the way. It was going to hit around 6 AM, and dump a lot of snow on our region over the next eight hours or so.
Teri and I talked about it, talked about the possibility of me not going in to work on Friday. I suggested we wait and see; maybe my company would call a snow day.
No such luck. As we started out from the house, the snow was just starting to come down, thick and fast. Teri was worried, and so was I. She suggested to Sebastian that she might not take him to school, and he immediately burst out sobbing - big fat tears practically burst
out of his eyes.
"I want to see my friends
!" he sobbed.
Time was tight, but we made it to the train. The ride in was uneventful. When I got out at Ruggles, though, the company shuttle wasn't there. A bunch of fellow employees were standing around, freezing and getting caked in a remarkably thick layer of snow - I'm not kidding, it was half an inch thick at least
. After a couple of minutes the shuttle pulled in and we clambered aboard.
The roads were getting bad, so the trip took a slightly longer than usual. When we pulled up to the building, though, the van door wouldn't open. The driver tried and tried, but it was absolutely stuck. It couldn't have been frozen shut; it wasn't that
cold. But even though he tried the emergency handle over and over, and another driver came over and helped him pull on the door, it wouldn't budge at all.
So eventually they had us all go out through the driver's-side door. That required sitting behind the wheel, a tight fit while fully laden with bags (as most of us were), but eventually we all got out and headed into work.
I hoped that would be the most exciting part of the day. It wasn't.( Read more... )
I'll go to sleep soon. But I am
trying to decide what I want to write next. Don't know if I'll figure it out tonight, but it's definitely high on my list of priorities. Because there's no question in my mind that I'm happier when I have a story going. It gives me something to think about, something challenging.
Recently the thought occurred to me that if I assume that some (or all) of my stories have no chance for publication, that frees me to write things that I'd really enjoy, but wouldn't normally consider doing - for example, a new story using Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson's Hokas. The idea hit me that it might be interesting to do a story about a serious Hoka - one with no real imagination, or no more
imagination than a normal human. Might be amusing, though I'd need to work out an angle.