The Weatherman Who Cried Wolf

It seems like several times each winter, the weather reports start screaming about the huge storm that's barrelling down on us. "It's going to be huge!" they warn. "Snow measured in feet!" "Everything will be shut down!" "You'll be stuck in your homes for days!"

Almost every time, the storm fizzles out. The next day the embarrassed forecasters are scrambling to explain. "The storm changed it's track." "But look, it was a big storm in Nebraska!" "It lost it's force over the mountains."

So all of this is to explain why Aaron and I didn't take the forecasts seriously last night when they said, "It's going to be huge!" And so I went to work as usual. And it seemed like it would be fine. Even if the storm hit as predicted, it was supposed to hit in the afternoon. So as long as I caught the 3:00 bus, I would beat any storm coming in.

But around 8:00, the skies opened up and the storm came in. And it's bad. I'm sitting in my office and I can barely see the buildings across the street because of the whiteout conditions. And there's no bus scheduled to go to my area until 3:00. By which time the busses may well have stopped running. So now Aaron is on his way down to pick me up from work.

I feel so worried that he's out driving in this mess. I wish I had listened to the forecasts, but they're just so often wrong. Aaron and I even discussed it last night and agreed that they were probably exaggerating as they so often do. I guess maybe next time we'll pay attention. Of course, next time, the storm will probably change its track...