We were told that it was going to snow this weekend. A lot. This woman in her thirties has come a long way in the last year, and I was actually kind of excited for it. Not for the driving, the sliding, or chapped lips, but for the prettiness of it. So when I woke up on Saturday morning and saw this, I got all warm and fuzzy inside. For reals:
I went to yoga, got all zen-hippie, and left there feeling like life was good, and I was ready for my second Pleasantville winter.
Then I walked out to my car, which in the course of an hour and a half had been surrounded by more than three inches of snow. Guess who hadn't thought to bring her brush-thingy to get all the snow off? The next thirty minutes are a convoluted mess, beginning with an eight month pregnant lady pushing another pregnant lady's car out of a ditch, me rolling down my window and dumping about a ton of snow on my lap and down my boots, and ending with lots and lots of expletives.
A woman in her thirties should know better than to think things can't get worse than they are, but I did. I was sitting at brunch with my friend K (laughing at myself for the snow-in-boots debacle) when L sent me a text. 'FYI- the power's out.' I kept my cool, thinking, 'It's okay. We'll run some errands this afternoon and have the heat back on by dinner.' Here's how it really went:
Saturday: Reading. Conserving cell phone batteries. Snuggling under blankets. Power should be back any minute now. All the neighbors crossing fingers.
Saturday night: Silent prayers of gratitude for our very heavy down comforter. Surely we would have power by morning.
Sunday morning: Butt cold. Thank goodness Chewy didn't make her appearance yet. Rush to L's parents' for shu mai and hot chocolate. Jealous of Dan's fur coat.
Sunday afternoon: Kill time at the Giant Mall of Midwestern Craziness. Stop back at home to give Dan some love and store frozen gwottles in a neighbor's freezer who still has power.
Sunday night: Shower at L's parents'. Wish I'd go into labor so we'd be assured a warm room to sleep in. L and I fight to share Dan's body heat.
Monday morning: YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS WE STILL DON'T HAVE POWER. Rush out of the house to get to OB appointment, okay with being early if it means we can sit in the warm waiting room.
The power came back on about 10:00 this morning, and I spent the whole day alternately basking in the glory of central heat and admiring our fridge, which has never looked so clean:
I was thinking about it as I did laundry and restocked the fridge today. My weekend was supposed to involve last-minute nesting and reflecting on my last day of school. My OB appointment this morning was supposed to involve an assurance that I'll be having a baby (painlessly) by the end of the week. Neither thing happened, and that's because no matter how much control a woman in her thirties thinks she has, she simply doesn't.
I think this card I got from a group of students this week summarizes this point perfectly. Forget the bunnies, the sentimentality, and the wishes of peace and harmony. What it boils down to is this:
Power or no, I'll do my best.