You’ve been glued to The Weather Channel for the past two days. The forecast called for at least six inches of snow and the email just hit your inbox. You got the day off work. Oh, what a day. A strong sense of satisfaction and relief sweeps over you, a sensation that you haven‘t felt since grade school. You settle back underneath the warmth of your bed as winter‘s fury rages on outside of your window. Beautiful. They’ve still asked you to do some work from home, but there’s no way you’re working the entire day, let alone a couple of hours.
The possibilities of the day are endless, really. You lay in bed for a few hours, trying to fall back asleep, but your body has unfortunately trained itself to never sleep past 7:00am out of sheer paranoia of oversleeping. You don’t have to shovel anything, except for maybe your car, which is currently under a foot of snow and ice, but who cares? It‘s not like you‘re going anywhere…yet. You and the roommate look into building a fire in your fireplace that you haven’t used since moving in, but decide it would be best to not burn down your apartment complex and play it safe with some hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps to start the day. Get a nice buzz going early on this surprise mini-vacation and kick back. The day is yours.
Soon the pictures will start flooding your social media timelines of people building snowmen or igloos, and yes…there will be excessive amounts of dog pictures. A frozen tundra awaits outside of your door, looking like you just stepped into the real life version of The Wall from Game of Thrones and half expect white walkers to be roaming the streets. No way you were getting to work, let alone off your street, in this mess. God bless those bartenders who will make it into work today to satiate the alcoholic desires rare mid-week, 20-something day drinkers who have suddenly descended upon their bar.
You decide to knock out a little bit of work, but that only lasts about 30 minutes. Panic sets in as you realize you haven’t done any real grocery shopping in two weeks and all you have is a carton of grapefruit juice that you bought for reasons currently eluding you and a nearly empty box of Wheat Thins. You move to the liquor cabinet and find that you failed to properly diagnose your precarious situation before the storm hit. Just a leftover bottle of cake flavored vodka that some girls left at your place a few weeks back.
The frantic search for a liquor store that’s open near your house commences as you watch precious, rare seconds of free time tick off of the clock. Thankfully, one is open. Strap on those boots and hit the road for a quick trek to the nearest hooch oasis. You arrive at the liquor store like Bruce Wayne entering into the League of Shadows headquarters, exhausted. Load up on beer and liquor. Who knows how long you might be stuck in your house? It’ll probably be less than 24 hours, but better safe than sorry.
Food? Fuck the grocery store. All the shelves were cleared out by psychotic soccer moms right when snow was forecasted three days beforehand, anyway. Back to searching for open places. Good thing you grabbed that Slim Jim at the liquor store counter or you might not have had the sustenance to haul your liquor rations back through the snow.
Just your luck, the only places open right now are the shittiest Chinese and pizza places in town. Pick your poison, but you need food. The worst thing would be for your landlord to find you, starved to death on your couch, surrounded by alcohol, in pajama pants and an old t-shirt, dead of starvation because you refused to eat lukewarm, medium-quality General Tso’s chicken. Grow a pair.
Power down those crab rangoons and egg rolls and plan the next move. Be sure to tip that nice delivery driver too. God bless that person for working today. People like that make the world go round on days like this. You’ll sit on the couch feeling shameful of your gluttony, but the rationale here is that you ordered enough food for a family of four and still have some leftover in case this is in fact the real life version of The Day After Tomorrow. Plus, Top Gun is on. Two more hours down the drain.
The roads are hopefully clear in the afternoon and moves are being made. Bars are open and it’s time to shine. The sun is still out and you’ve got a full 10 hours before it’s time to hit the hay for work tomorrow. You’ve got a nice daytime buzz going, so it’s time to join forces with your friends and really take advantage of the day. Fire up the jukebox and enjoy yourself with the company of your fellow snow day compatriots. Sucks for the people who had to work today. Another drink for those people.
It might take some budgetary maneuvering, as most weeks you’re only drinking one or two nights, but now you’ve got a 10-hour booze-a-thon ahead of you. You’re still getting paid for today, so who cares. Run that tab up and build an igloo in someone’s yard on the way back from the bar or start a drunk snowball fight with a few kids who are still braving the cold and putting the finishing touches on their awesome snow fort. Ah, to be young again.
One last check of The Weather Channel before settling in for the night, praying for a surprise second band of snow, but no luck. The all-too-familiar work night anxiety returns and you begin shoving as much Gatorade, water and Advil you can into your body, praying that tomorrow‘s hangover will be gentle. Back to reality.