Waiting for the Snow to Fall

11.29.06, 4 p.m.: Dave comes home from work (relax, he’s a schoolteacher, not a malingerer). “The salt trucks are out,” he says. It’s raining and 60 degrees. What do they know that we don’t.

11.30.06, 6 a.m.: I get up and turn on the local newscasts. We’re under a winter storm warning, waiting on 6-12 inches of snow. WTF happened to my 60 degrees?

11.30.06, 8 a.m.: Good Morning America weather “anchor” Sam Champion (and if there were a beauty contest for men, he would be Mr. America) says today’s impending snowstorm will be national news tomorrow morning. Um. Sam, if you’re talking about it now, it’s already national news.

11.30.06, 9:03 a.m.: The local CBS affiliate breaks into regular coverage to update viewers on the Doppler radar. A green squiggly line is threatening to demolish Chicago.

11.30.06, 9:04 a.m.: I decide today might not be a good day to run errands. I’ll put them off until tomorrow.

11.30.06, 10:38 a.m.: I’m still waiting for the snow.

11.30.06, 1: 23 p.m.: I go to the story to lay in food supplies for the siege.

11.30.06, 3 p.m.: I’m still waiting for the snow.

11.30.06, 4:14 p.m.: Dave comes home from work. The snow is a no-show, I tell him. They moved back the start time, he replies. What is this, the NFL?

11.30.06, 5:11 p.m.: I make final preparations for the blizzard—I download Christmas songs from iTunes and check the levels of my hot cocoa supply. Huzzah for Costco. I have 86 packets of Swiss Miss.

11.30.06, 6:53 p.m.: “WeatherTrak” update from Ch. 2—the snow is still well to the south. What do you want to bet it stays there.

11.30.06, 7:38 p.m.: Tonight’s “Office” is awesome. Michael: “Name a white man you admire and I’ll name a black man I admire more.” Karen: “Jesus." Michael: “Apollo Creed.”

11.30.06, 9 p.m.: Copying Christmas music onto the iPod. I love Andy Williams.

11.30.06, 9:29 p.m.: New one for the dictionary of weather hyperbole--"thunder snow." Revised forecast--5-8 inches. Dave says, "I'm not feeling it."

11.30.06, 9:45 p.m.: WGN News--It's not the Storm of the Century but it is "The Super Bowl for Meteorologists."

11.30.06, 10:08 p.m.: I give up. Going to bed. Hoping to wake up to a snow day.