Everyone loves to make fun of how the South shuts down after just a few inches of snow, but believe me, you don’t want drivers like me on the road when there’s slush and ice. I’m the first to admit I would be drifting all over the place.
Schools have cancelled classes, which means most parents are in despair from cabin fever. But my son and Film Critic (a.k.a. my husband) are “stuck” in Chicago at a four star hotel near Lakeshore Drive. There’s about four inches of snow, but the city of big shoulders can handle that kind of dusting.
I’ve spent my free time watching Mad Men, knitting, walking the dogs, fine tuning my syllabus, and checking Facebook status updates (most of which are either complaints, boasts, or rants. No offense.)
There’s nothing like being snowed in and alone with the dogs to make me realize that human contact rates much higher than social networking. The former is a soufflé, the latter a thin broth.
And I haven’t done a lick of poetry writing. I do have an idea for a poem, but I’ve let myself give in to the suspended reality of the snow days.