Leap day. Hump day. Wednesday. Call it what you will. It’s February 29th, the once-every-four-years event that brings out the news stories about people who are really four hundred years old, but because they just have birthdays every four years, they’re just 100 years old.
And we’re left to wonder if this is why they look so good for their age…
The weather report, such as it is, ended up turning into a disappointment, all things considered. The storm thumbed its nose at all the technology the media weather forecasters could throw at it, causing them to look like complete boobs who were practically throwing darts to help decide what was going to happen. I fully expect humble and abject apologies for at least of their three-minute segment on TV in the morning. Of course, that won’t happen, but I can dream.
But all last night’s rain served to do was to turn the snow that fell on top of it into a remarkably heavy and dense layer of slush. Sure, some of it froze, causing miles of washboard-like roads across the area this morning. By the way, if anyone finds my car’s suspension system, I’d appreciate getting it back.
The drive in this morning, all things considered, was pretty good. I was only 10 minutes late to work, having left a few minutes earlier than usual. The city streets were all pretty good, and even on the freeway, I was able to do almost the posted speed, until I got to 694 and found a logjam. But I jumped off and hit the side streets and still got to work in good time.
The drive home was just wet. The predicted afternoon snow never materialized, and the storm simply vanished after its morning blitz. So the roads were in remarkably good shape, considering what they were like in the morning. But such is life in Minnesota: winter storms can come and go and we’ll still have things back to normal in remarkably short order.
St. Paul declared a snow emergency, which may or may not be a foolish move. Minneapolis, on the other hand, went to lengths to announce that it was going to do no such thing, kind of acting like the guy with no money who thinks he can bluff his way out of paying the check at the restaurant–he knows it should be done, but just doesn’t have the cash to do it and thinks he’s in a good position to get away with it. When we got home, we found that a plow had come through and shoved as much snow around as it could, with cars parked on the street. And maybe this will pay off–everything was still melting by that time.
But as happens every time you turn over the page in the calendar, I look at the arrival of March with some incredulity–it seems not that long ago that we were celebrating Christmas. But alas, March, more maybe than any other month, heralds Spring. This snow will not be here long. But March also points the way toward other things coming: just two months to the girls’ twelfth birthdays, and Jenni’s graduation. There you go. Turn the page, time moves on. Nothing illustrates that better.
Happy leap day, folks. See you back here in four years. I’ll be 168 years old by then. Or wait…
See you tomorrow.