The condition of the roads is not conducive to safe school bus operation. The school district is closed.
Snow day. A gift from the precipitation gods, aka Lake Erie, if you are a public school student or employee, that is.
The rest of us trudge, a means of walking that, I suspect, is familiar only to those who live in snow, sand or mud.
Even when the paths and roads are clear, the mood is one of trudging through the day.
I trudge out the door, step upon the arc left behind by the hinged plow and trudge through the mess to my car, wondering, “Why didn’t I put it in the garage last night?”
After all these winters, you would think that I would know to: 1. put the car in the garage; 2. take the gloves in the house rather than leave them in the car; 3. first clear the snow from around the driver’s door before opening the door, thereby avoiding the avalanche onto the driver’s seat.
Having failed on all three counts, I trudge about the rectangle, sweeping clear the snow from windows and lights, knowing that my commute will be on a wet seat. I trudge to the bird feeder and back. I trudge to the mailbox. Even my black Lab seems to trudge as he frolics at the joy of a snow day.
Winter is such a trudging affair. Even the car finds this journey unusually laborious, its wheels refusing to respond to my commands, its engine racing yet the vehicle hardly moving.
We trudgers soon form a row, flashers flashing, wipers trudging through incessant flakes, white-knuckled drivers cursing the SUV driver whose had enough of this trudging and stirs up a secondary blizzard as he passes our row, blinding us to the oncoming wrecker.
The 20-minute drive takes 45. It takes longer to walk from the parking lot to the office because, by now, I am in a trudging mood. My fingers trudge across the keyboard and my mind trudges through the list of chores. They get done, but everything feels like such an effort.
My mind, emotions and body are having an unofficial snow day. They wanted to shut down; they protest the will’s decision by trudging. “Fine, you insist upon subjecting yourself to this stuff, we’ll show you. We’ll trudge. We will get there, but it is going to take longer and you aren’t going to like the journey.”
Such is life. Snow days are as uncommon as an inbox without solicitations. When the conditions arise, we slow down, take our time, examine the road conditions, evaluate our resources and watch out for the other guy.