Life in a Shaking Snowglobe

°o° On this day in Disney history, for the very first time, absolutely nothing happened.

“And the mouse is there going, ‘Yeah, I”ve got this plan... it’s not my best-laid plan...’” - Eddie Izzard

It was very strange to drive back here last night because at home the snow has initiated its recession to the point that patches of grass are available for our viewing pleasure, but here we still have mounds o snow up to four and five feet high. One can only presume the sidewalks still exist, as not one in the city is visible, and on most roads we’re still diving on a good four inches of packed snow rather than a road. Odd.

It was also intriguing to enter my apartment last night. There were so many strange things that I now recognize as indicators that I really was not feeling well on Tuesday - my rollers were sitting on top of the dryer in the laundry room, my pajamas were on the shelf with my shoes rather than in a drawer, and my garage door was open (not really an issue because there’s nothing in there, but it’s the principle of the thing.

I had a major breakthrough last night - I finished my first container of Woolite.

So here’s the timeline for the snowstorm, just for posterity’s sake (because the last time the U of I cancelled classes, the deans of the law school were enrolled as students).

Monday evening I glanced outside to see an environment akin to one of those snowglobes at Christmastime that my sister shakes and shakes and shakes, without pause, until all you see is a blurry white.

Tuesday morning, I walked down the stairs against a wind steadfastly determined to shove me back up a few flights. I actually feared I would take flight, in Mary Poppins fashion.

I got to school (slowly, with my brights on) at 8 and at 8:30, our scheduled class start time, only ten of us were present. We sat there like idiots until 8:45, when people started walking out. At 8:50 the e-mail came from the Chancellor of U of I, saying the entire university would be closed for the day. The rest of the students peeled out, until at last only Karina and I were left. She phoned her fiancé in the math department across campus and they complained heartily about the wimpiness of the staff and our fellow students, effectively echoing my sentiments.

At 9, the Assistant Dean of Student Affairs peeked into the classroom and said we should leave, as police would soon be closing roads, so we might be stuck at the law school and “If the power goes out, it goes out.” I called the police, who apparently harbored no such intentions for the near future, so we stuck around.

Around 3, the police issued a statement on the radio that wherever we were at 5, we would stay for the duration of the night. I crawled home through the whiteout and managed to pull into my garage. Then I figured I ought to go get my mail, so I pulled back out and got stuck in a patch at the end. Thankfully, one of the apartment’s plow trucks happened to be passing, and the maintenance men helped dig me out. “I don’t know what’s so dang important that everyone’s gotta be out in this weather,” the elder one drawled. (Umm... graduate school?) Then I mulled nearby as they fulfilled my request to clear the path to my garage. I weathered the weather and trudged over to the clubhouse until it closed at 5, and then trudged back home.

Upon entry to my apartment, I discovered that the lightbulb at the top of my steps had exploded (presumably from the cold, or perhaps the wind) and that small patches of snow had piled up in the corners of all my windows. Additionally, a massive wet spot had appeared in front of the door to my patio, and as I stood in front of it, snow continued to pour in and fleck my entire body. So I spent a good deal of time taping plastic over the entire doorway. It looks totally redneck, but it worked.

At 11:30, the law school issued an e-mail that classes at U of I would again be cancelled for the ensuing day. The following morning, as I walked down my steps, I discovered large patches of the siding of the apartment building littering the path to my downstairs neighbor’s door. A massive portion of the insulation of the building was exposed. And so.... I burned rubber. Just in the nick of time, too.