Sunday, January 26, 2014

Trapped in Winter

Before the insanity hit, the Boy and I put in provisions. This turned out to be a good idea, as we didn’t leave the house for almost seventy-two hours, stuck (as we were) in the snow. The Artist got in touch with me to tell me her flight had been cancelled. Her flight and every other flight out of O'hare: 370 some-odd flights had been grounded because of the snow and cold. They couldn’t get the planes de-iced fast enough to move them. She was stuck in Florida for an extended stay, I was stuck at my house for an extended stay. This was all rather unpleasant and dramatic weather and I was already feeling done with it, and we hadn’t even had the cold snap happen yet. On Sunday night I watched as the snow continued to fall and wondered if we would ever be able to get the car out.

Monday was freezing cold. I worked from home and then did some sewing. There was nothing else to do. Tuesday I almost missed the train as the Boy tried desperately to get the car up the little slope that is our driveway. I called the Bard to let her know.

“If we can get out of the drive in the next three minutes, I will make the train.”

We managed.

Chicago was icy frosty cold. The waters of the lake rolled like someone had kicked up a bucket of greasy oil. The glass of window fronts were coated in flashes of ice that streaked across and feathered everywhere, making the city look like an igloo. It was blistering cold to walk for even the small half block of exposure that I had, but aside from the weather there was limited excitement. The weather was all anyone talked about.

“I spent the day picking oranges out of the tree in the back,” the Artist told me over the phone.

“How long are you going to be stuck?”

“It seems like forever. I may not be able to get out before Sunday.” In the end she had to change her flight to fly out through New York to get home. All other options were quickly vanishing and with all flights in and out of O’hare cancelled for almost three days, flying was seriously unpredictable at the moment. I was lucky I had managed to get back to the city when I did.

“The polar vortex sucks.”

“Yes, yes it does.” We commiserated together with everyone else in the country, as Chicago was not alone, but easily suffering with the entire continental U.S. The start of the year was already providing some amusement.



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