Snowbound

I fell asleep on the sofa this afternoon as the city turned white outside my windows. I'm reading Time and Again by Jack Finney, because two friends say it's one of their all-time favorites. I'm not a science fiction fan — even if it's about the 19th century — so it's been a sleeping pill so far. When I woke up, our street looked like this:

I'm curious to see how it looks tomorrow. The roads are empty because of the governor's driving ban, so it's quiet except for some proactive shoveling. The plows haven't come through yet.

I stock up on groceries before snowstorms but not because I fear we'll be trapped or lose power, or stores won't be able to get deliveries. It's just much easier to carry shopping bags home on dry sidewalks than slippery, snowy ones. I went to the supermarket and Trader Joe's yesterday, including a second, 9 pm trip to TJ's, mainly to check out the situation. It was crazy-crowded; the line went around the store. But it moved quickly, everyone was in good spirits, and I chatted with the students in front of me and behind me as we waited. When our tiny TJ's is crowded, I get in line with an empty basket and fill it as I snake around the store. I pass practically everything along the way so it saves time.

Storms feel cozier and more fun when there are lots of delicious things around, waiting to be eaten. Late this morning, we went out in light, easy snow to pick up a few more essentials. From Crumbs:

I vacuumed yesterday and fished out dozens of sparkly balls and other toys that had been lost under furniture, so everyone is well supplied for the storm. Here Wendy surveys the inventory:

Harris has a new perch for watching the snow through all three bay windows:

I'd say we're all set.