Changed Plans

A little Buffalo winter humor

I awoke last Monday morning with plans for a busy week. 

Monday has become a marathon day of errands for me - work followed by a boot camp workout with a personal trainer, grocery shopping, and laundry when I (finally) get home. On Tuesday evening, I had a writing-group meeting, and on Thursday evening, I had tentative weather-dependent plans to attend a concert. Alas, those are my two key words for this time of year, as I live in a small town near Buffalo, N.Y. (which, if you haven't heard, is basically the snow capital of the world): weather dependent.

As it turned out, plans started changing quickly after I got to work last Monday. All of us were on high alert, monitoring the forecast, which called for up to several feet (not inches) of snow during the next few days. My only wish at that point, as a light rain/snow mix (undoubtedly the precursor to much worse) commenced, was that I'd be able to stop for groceries on my way home, as I was running low on nearly everything food related. Thankfully, I did, though not before cancelling my workout (I made up for it later at home, on my own) so I could get home before daylight faded. (I also told my writing-group leader, when she called with the meeting reminder, that I most likely wouldn't make it due to the forecasted weather.)

The snowy view from my snowy bedroom window.

I awoke the next morning to snow...lots and lots of snow...so I turned on the TV, checking to see what, if anything, was closed. By 6 a.m., nearly all schools in my area were closed, except, unfortunately, the college where I worked. I left my apartment earlier than usual to start cleaning and defrosting my car. As I futilely attempted to brush the snow off my car (as soon as I finished brushing off one side and went to the other, the side I'd just cleaned would be once again totally snow-covered within seconds) and squinted at the street, which I could barely see, my boss's words from the previous day ("Don't come in if the weather is bad") rang through my head. Well, although I never call in sick, regardless of appendicitis, flu, colds, or snowy mornings, I ditched my snow brush and promptly headed back inside to text my boss and email my coworkers. 

The storm waged on throughout the day and night, thankfully closing my college (and everything else) on Wednesday and again on Thursday. More than anything, I was thankful to be home, safe and warm, with a well-stocked refrigerator and cupboards, especially when I heard on the TV news about motorists stranded on the New York State Thruway (which had closed) for hours at a time without food, water, or any knowledge of when they might be rescued. If I had to be snowed in anywhere (which I was; by Thursday evening, my car was literally buried under feet of snow), I'm glad it was in the safety of  my home.

Making productive use of three consecutive snow days.

By Thursday afternoon, after enjoying three days of relaxing downtime to read, watch movies, clean my apartment, and get a jump start on my holiday decorating, my anxiety kicked in to overdrive. Despite shoveling my porch and around my car that morning, and having my parking lot plowed by a neighbor the previous two days, there was at least a solid foot of snow on my car, with only the black side rear-view mirror visible out of the white snowy lump. And it was still snowing. (And the concert was cancelled, of course.)

My car...in there somewhere.

So I grabbed a shovel and got to work, while trying to stave off a pending panic attack. Minutes later: a true answer to prayer. Two men, who just happened to be walking by with shovels, asked if I needed help. "That's an understatement," I responded. Without another word, both men started shoveling an opening to the parking lot, eventually, after over an hour of backbreaking work, meeting me in the middle, making a seemingly insurmountable task for one person a doable job for three. 

Before they left, I dropped my shovel, ran inside, and grabbed two $20 bills, one for each, and thanked them both profusely. As a strong, single, self-sufficient woman, I hate asking for help. I rarely do, and, truthfully, I really don't expect anyone to help me even if I do. But what I realized, in the midst of this storm, is that good people are out there, especially in the small town where I'm fortunate to live, and they tend to come out exactly when they're needed.

Thanks to the assistance of those two men, and another neighbor who helped push my car out after a plow banked a heap of snow at the front of my parking lot overnight, I was able to make it back to work on Friday morning. By now the storm was over and massive cleanup efforts began, along with a new concern, due to a rapid warmup and heavy rainfall: flooding.

After this crazy, unpredictable week, only one thing is certain: there's never a dull moment during winter in Buffalo.