Snowmageddon Part II has struck, and I’m completely snowed in. I mean it. I live in a basement apartment and can’t see out, except for my back patio, where the two levels have become one. I could slide down the slope that used to be my stairs. That is, if I planned to ever go outside again.
I worked from home Friday to avoid the commute. I mean, I’m sure the PATH is running, but how would I get to the PATH? Jersey City has apparently not adopted the same standards of snow removal that New York has. After the last Snowmageddon, New Yorker shoveled the snow into streets, where it could be piled into dump trucks and hauled it away. On Wednesday, there was a ton of snow. By Friday, it was gone.
In Jersey City, on the other hand, that snow is now buried under the fresh two feet we just got this week. We have some snow plows that come through and pile whatever was on the street onto the sidewalks, which may explain why no one shovels. I tried to go one block down the street to the diner for lunch, but after 20 minutes of trudging through knee-high snow that kept falling into my boots, I found myself face-to-face with a mountain of snow. Apparently one building dug out their sidewalk by pushing snow in one direction, while their neighbor pushed their snow toward the same point. So there I was, facing a snow fence between their two sides of the sidewalk. I turned and went home.
I couldn’t even be angry, as these were the only shoveled sidewalks I could see.
Then I did the one thing I could do from my apartment to combat this soul-crushing weather: I bought a warmer coat on sale on ideeli and then booked a ticket to Miami. I know they don’t go together, but they both make perfect sense. Retail therapy + sun = hope.
Snowmageddon Part II has struck, and I’m completely snowed in. I mean it. I live in a basement apartment and can’t see out, except for my back patio, where the two levels have become one. I could slide down the slope that used to be my stairs. That is, if I planned to ever go outside again.
I worked from home Friday to avoid the commute. I mean, I’m sure the PATH is running, but how would I get to the PATH? Jersey City has apparently not adopted the same standards of snow removal that New York has. After the last Snowmageddon, New Yorker shoveled the snow into streets, where it could be piled into dump trucks and hauled it away. On Wednesday, there was a ton of snow. By Friday, it was gone.
In Jersey City, on the other hand, that snow is now buried under the fresh two feet we just got this week. We have some snow plows that come through and pile whatever was on the street onto the sidewalks, which may explain why no one shovels. I tried to go one block down the street to the diner for lunch, but after 20 minutes of trudging through knee-high snow that kept falling into my boots, I found myself face-to-face with a mountain of snow. Apparently one building dug out their sidewalk by pushing snow in one direction, while their neighbor pushed their snow toward the same point. So there I was, facing a snow fence between their two sides of the sidewalk. I turned and went home.
I couldn’t even be angry, as these were the only shoveled sidewalks I could see.
Then I did the one thing I could do from my apartment to combat this soul-crushing weather: I bought a warmer coat on sale on ideeli and then booked a ticket to Miami. I know they don’t go together, but they both make perfect sense. Retail therapy + sun = hope.
Filed under: Stories | Tagged: Humor, Jersey City, New York, snow | Comments Off
The list of differences between myself and my middle sister Carrie is a long one, but so mnay singular points on that list could be used to summarize them all. Like shopping, for instance.
I approach shopping almost like it’s a sport, there are strategies for finding the right purchase,and I will search high and low and online for deals on brands in an attempt to get more for my money. And then there are the happy, accidental scores – as if the store fumbled, and I picked up the ball and ran with it. Of course, it’s all staged by the stores, and given the amount of money I’ve blown and the number of items that have gone to Goodwill with the tags still attached, I’d say I’m a big loser.
Carrie on the other hand, approaches shopping like it’s a supermarket sweep. She likes to got to this place that gives you an unmarked bag as you enter, and you pay by the weight when you leave. Or at least she used to. I don’t know if that place is still open, as I only went once and that was many years ago. For some reason, sifting through piles and piles of unorganized clothing is completely overwhelming to me. Unless it’s at a Barney’s sale.
Weirdly, we seem to overlap in the area of fit. Carrie’s store doesn’t offer dressign rooms. When you’re paying $1 for pants, you can’t be too picky about how they fit. In my case, if I can find Theory pants on sale for $100, I’ll buy them even if they’re a little tight. I just call them my aspirational pants and promise myself to lose the weight.
(And then eventually give them to Goodwill.)
Filed under: Stories | Tagged: Family, Humor, shopping | Comments Off
