It’s the 1st of February, and I was gonna start moving out today.
Unfortunately, it’s also snowing, one of those serious, business-like straight-down snows that have no purpose except to accumulate as rapidly as possible. The only snow more covering is a variety I am familiar with from Minnesota, which had big, fat, cheerful flakes the size of half-dollars and always looked as if it were snowing in slow-motion, right up until you realized you were standing in a white-out.

This has small rapid flakes, and is building up quickly. It’ll turn to freezing rain later (yay…) and then in theory melt, but I’m staying off the roads until afternoon at the earliest. They expect an inch or two, which ought to paralyze the entire region in panicked horror, except for those individuals that would be better off paralyzed, but will instead drive at a thousand miles an hour, flip the car, and call 911 for fear of freezing to death in a ditch two minutes from a Burger King.

Since I’m only moving about five minutes away, I hadn’t planned to so much pack as just…shift things over. The car would be my box. I’m leaving tons of stuff here, which won’t fit and which James can either use or store much more easily than I can, since we’re both still hoping for an eventual reconciliation. (He rubbed my feet last night after I stood on them for eight hours, on a concrete floor, in unbroken Birkenstocks. This sort of thing restores a lot of goodwill, believe me.)

Trapped at home, however, it appears I may have to engage in a little packing anyway. Arrrgh!