Snow-mageddon

The big Arctic Blast of Ought 10 (wait, that's not right...) hit earlier tonight, and as forecast, it was a humdinger.  If your definition of humdinger is a dusting of snow, temperatures at barely freezing, and roadways devoid of anything but water.

Hell, "dusting" is being generous.  It's like a sneezing of snow.  A detritus of snow.  I feel like saying gesundheit to Mother Nature.

The way the local news was talking today, I fully expected to be in the grip of snowy anarchy, where the law of survival of the fittest applied.  I thought we'd need to be keeping our lights out so that the marauding  bands of survivors of Snow-megeddon wouldn't be attracted to signs of human life.  Heck, as a precaution, I already ate one of my cats.  That...did not go over well with the wife.  AND, in case you're curious, cats do NOT taste like chicken.

While I'm ashamed of my Feline Reuben (1,000 Island Dressing makes anything taste better), I'm not nearly as ashamed as the local weather people should feel.  Seriously, those guys wouldn't get the weather right if they were standing outside.  I want that job:  zero expectation of being correct, make sure you laugh at stupid jokes told by the anchors, and be able to work the green screen.  Only in America!

So take the boiling water off the stove, put away the bag of rice you bought from Costco for Y2K and settle down.  Nothing to see here.