It’s 4:30 pm. I left work an hour ago. I’ve been home about an hour (I work close to home). I feel like an idiot for having left early because despite the fact that it’s been snowing pretty steadily since around 11:30 this morning it’s still not much. Mostly, things are wet. There isn’t even much snow on the car. I could’ve easily worked until 5:00 (although to be fair, most of the people I work with and depend on to send me things went home early because they a) have kids, and/or b) live further away, so there wasn’t much for me to do).
We’re stocked up and ready for snowmageddon. I’m going to be slightly disappointed if we don’t get something worthwhile, even if it will be a huge pain in the neck on Monday, when I have to go back to work.
I felt slightly guilty all day, since I stayed home the whole day and basically no bad weather arrived until I would have been home. Then I remembered that I hate my job.
This sissy may not even make it to wirk on Monday. I doubt the city/county will have dug out by then.