Snow days: Not as much fun for adults

Weren’t snow days wonderful when you were a kid? I can’t remember a sound from my childhood more beautiful than a phone ringing at 5:00am and the subsequent disappointment in my mother’s voice as she grumbled to my dad those seven magical words: “The kids are home today. This blows.” I hate to say it but now that I’m 30, snow days kinda suck.

I am certainly not complaining about the fact that I don’t have to work today. But wow, am I bored. It has been snowing for twenty-eight hours and I’m starting to think that it’s never going to stop. When I was little, a snow storm of this size wouldn’t have phased me; now, I’m convinced that I’m doomed to be killed by a Yeti, my lifeless remains discovered days later by a Saint Bernard. When I was a child, I would have watched “Ghostbusters” and eaten SpaghettiOs all afternoon; today, I’m stuck watching “RuPaul’s Drag Race” until Oprah comes on and the only lunch I’ve had consisted of the five pieces of turkey pepperoni I ate before remembering it’s a Lenten Friday. I can’t even pray away my meat-eatin’ guilt because none of the churches in my little Polish neighborhood have English masses during the day. That’s how pathetic this snow day has become: I’m disappointed that I can’t go to church.

So how am I coping? By nesting like a mofo, dear readers. I’ve already cleaned my entire apartment and am currently cooking two loaves of soda bread and one big pot of collard greens, forever putting to bed the age-old question of whether Irish girls from Jersey can cook soul food. As it turns out, we can. I’ve also had a lot of coffee today. That’s probably pretty apparent.

And now I’m going to get my Vonnegut on and abruptly end this post with a picture of my snowy front stoop: