Snowmageddon!

   Late Friday night, as you all know, the East coast got hit with a wicked Nor'Easter. It was loudly being hailed as the end of the world on all the local news stations, and it had everybody running for cover. After I was off the clock Friday, I decided I'd stop by the supermarket and grab a few things on my way home so I wouldn't have to venture out into Hell the next day. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was surprised (for some reason) to find that everybody else in the natural world had the same idea.
  I immediately tried to get out of the lot, but it was too late. All the entrances were jammed up with cars and every spot in the place was taken. It took about fifteen minutes before I could even turn up one of the aisles, and by grace, I found an empty spot. I took it and ran inside, where the chaos was even worse.
  Every aisle was stuffed full of carts and rude people, and the shelves were already going bare. I started laughing at how riduclous it all was. Up in Spokane, a snow like this was a weekly occurrance during December. At one point, I walked away from my cart for a minute to look for something and when I came back, it was gone. I quickly tracked it down one aisle over where some crazy lady was pushing it along and shopping. I said, "I think you have my basket, ma'am." She looked at me, completely dumbfounded and said, "I didn't think it belonged to anybody." I retorted, "You see all those things in it? That should have been your first clue." I was now officially in the group of Holiday Assholes. Bravo.
  As my patience wore even more thin with folks, I finished my shopping hurriedly and then stood in line at the self-checkout lane for about twenty minutes. I bagged up my stuff, ran the twenty minute parking lot gauntlet, and finally made it home.
  As I unpacked my groceries, though, I found something missing. Then something else. Pretty soon, I discovered that about half the stuff I had put in there was gone. Crazy lady had dumped half my cargo, and I hadn't even noticed. Unfortunately, she had picked things like coffee, which I was very much looking forward to drinking the next morning during the freezing blizzard. Such is my luck. There was no way I was going to venture out into that mess again. I battened the hatches and prepared for the "Storm of the Decade."
   And storm it did. When I woke up the next morning, I had about a foot, and the snow was still coming down hard. It snowed all day long, eventually dropping a good two feet on Springfield and slightly less on DC proper. My rehearsal that afternoon was obviously cancelled, so I didn't venture out once. Sunday, however, I did.
  It was exactly as I suspected. I didn't have a snow shovel, but getting out of my driveway was fairly easy with the Jeep. All my neighbors were busy shoveling and shoveling, and our street hadn't even been plowed. I had some business in lower Springfield to take care of, and then I was going to try to buy a shovel and pick up the rest of my groceries.
  It was like a whole different Virginia out there. I mean, it was really unrecognizable. The streets were fairly deserted, and it just looked like a warzone. I saw cars off the road, people shoveling and snowblowing, and there was even a Policeman stranded, trying to put chains on his patrol car. Remembering the local PD's penchant for ticketry, I didn't stop to help him.
  At Home Depot, as I expected, there were no more shovels left. My bad mood was lifted on the way back to the store, though, when I saw two little kids standing atop a snowplow pile as high as their mailbox. One of them had a snowball in his hand and he shook it at me defiantly and yelled as I drove past. It made me laugh out loud.
  I got what I needed at the store (again) and then came home, glad to be in one piece. After putting everything away, I went next door to my 80-year-old neighbor Chuck and asked if he had a snow shovel. He did, and I offered to shovel his driveway for him since he's got heart problems and has no business doing it himself.
  For the next couple of hours, I shoveled his drive and part of mine. Then, I wrapped up the day by catching my hand in the rolling overhead door of my garage and nearly breaking it. That's what you get for being in a hurry. It wasn't the crushing blow or the pinching open of skin that hurt the most- it was the fact that my bare hand had been exposed and was freezing!
  Tonight is the final for one of my classes down at Studio. I'm performing a spoken word piece called "The Anchorite." I'm a bit nervous about it, if only because it's for Voice class, and every single word has to be perfectly enunciated and pronounced, but also be performed with believeable emotion. Tougher than it sounds. It's actually possible to say "The" wrong for two different reasons, I found out last week. It's the first word of the piece, and I was stopped twice for not enunciating it properly. Yikes.