I am writing to you from inside one of Boston’s many mega-tall snowbanks.
I can not be sure how long I’ve been here, but Comcast has already come to install cable, internet and home phone services (two of which I neither need nor want, but it’s cheaper for all three so okay) therefore I can only assume it’s been a few weeks. I don’t even know how they found me, but according to the technician, I was the 3rd snow bank appointment that morning.
As he was leaving I tried to follow him out, but he said I couldn’t leave until HQ called to test my new landline. So here I remain, but I have to admit it’s not that bad now that I have wifi.
You see, a few weeks (months?) ago I was walking down the street minding my own business when a snowplow came out of nowhere and buried me in what I now affectionately refer to as my winter snow palace.
How am I surviving you ask? Well, luckily I always carry snacks in my purse so hunger hasn’t been a problem. Additionally, there is plenty of water around, which I’ve always thought of as something you drink when you’re out of wine, but it’s actually quite refreshing in it’s own right.
In snowbank neighborhood news, I think I have a new neighbor based on the sounds of shivering and chattering teeth I’ve been hearing for the last few days. (These walls are so thin #IglooProblems.) Luckily I spent my childhood building up a tolerance to ridiculously cold indoor temperatures because my mother “runs hot.” I nary remember a day the thermostat was over 56, so I feel right at home in here.
I look forward to my release with the impending spring melt, but I have to admit it’s been a nice staycation of sorts. Anyways, I gotta run. Not literally of course, but the pizza delivery guy seems to have finally burrowed into the right snowbank.
How have you been surviving snowmageddonpacalypse ’15?
New Englanders — lets take a poll — does this make us stronger or want to move south? (The latter…)