The Wolves are Never at the Door

Dearest Rachel –

For the last couple of days, the folks have been watching the news and listening to the weather report. Actually, that’s not quite accurate, as they’ve been doing this fairly consistently all my life. Indeed, one of the last things I would do with them every night when I was a kid was to stay up and watch the nine o’clock news together with the family (this was when ten o’clock was considered late for a kid on a school night). And while the local superstation they favor over the major networks has upped their news game to include broadcasts at noon, four and five o’clock in the evening as well over the past fifty years hence, it’s not as if Mom and Dad haven’t been tuning into them until just recently; even from the basement (and even with my left ear plugged up as it is), I can still hear when they have it on. So it’s not like they’ve just starting paying attention.

Indeed, it isn’t even as if they’ve been relating this or that news story to me from time to time. When I come over in the mornings, I’ll spend some time chatting with them in the family room, letting them know about my plans for the day (both at ‘work’ and elsewhere, especially as it pertains to when I’ll be there or not), and often discussing the news of the day. Since we get our news from vastly different sources, it results in likewise varying perspectives toward current events, and it makes for interesting discussion. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a water cooler klatch.

But for the last couple of days in particular, they have been hearing – and relating to me, since I read my news online rather than watching in onscreen, leaving me with this gap in my awareness of the topic – about a particular storm front headed our way that was supposed to hit us overnight last night. Even as recently as yesterday morning, Dad in particular was suggesting that I not bother coming in this morning, nor even bother shoveling the driveway, as the snow that was expected to fall was the heavy, wet kind: “heart-attack snow,” he called it, apparently quoting one of the weathermen.

To be honest, given that I’ve been doing presses and curls among other aspects of my regular workout, I’m not sure this would really be as much of a problem for me. Indeed, like with my first outing to the gym, it would just serve as a workout before my workout, saving me a little time at the end of the day. But at the same time, I’ve been there three times this week already, and I understand that this is usually quite sufficient for one trying to get into shape.

Besides, I was rather appreciative for the dispensation allowing me to stay home; it’s not like Daniel and I spend a lot of time together, just the two of us, these days. Granted, most of that time is just spent watching videos, but it’s better than nothing. And while there had been some discussion about getting together with the girls (Erin had bid us goodbye on Monday after Sparks with a “see you Friday,” which I hadn’t been expecting, since the usual schedule as tacitly agreed upon had been every other week, but there has been enough longer stretches apart to justify multiple weeks in a row together, I suppose. Besides, I need to see her more often, in particular, to prevent the sort of thing that absence does), that looked to be going by the boards, both with the weather forecast and the fact that Ellen seems to have come down with something. So that’s a bummer for a Friday night.

Although it isn’t as if I don’t have things to occupy my time (I hesitate to say ‘amuse me,’ but it’s not all that far from the truth). The new computer arrived yesterday (Daniel claimed he used his ‘worst signature’ to sign for it; apparently, it was either heavy or awkward to hold while he did so), and while I did get it unpacked and started up, there’s a lot of setting up left to do before I start in on actually using it as intended. So that was something else to look forward to. I’d even gone so far as to load up one of my portable hard drives yesterday afternoon on my way out, so that I have all the latest files I needed to take care of for while I was home today.

Except, when I woke up this morning, there was… nothing. Not a drop of rain, not a flake of snow. Everything we had been warned about was utterly missing. All that buildup, all the metaphorical battening down of hatches, and for what? It all seems awfully anti-climactic.

And it’s not like this is the first time this is happened, even for this year. I get that it’s better that we are prepared for possible emergencies – and even dad pointed out that the weatherman admitted that there were three very different models for the system that was approaching. One had us getting hit hard – all that ‘heart-attack snow,’ you know. Another had it juuuust scraping by us, giving us a taste of the precipitation (although in what form was debatable – the fact that this model sent the worst of it to our south would suggest a dusting of snow, since it’s always colder to the north of the storm. If they get snow, we get snow, just less of it). And the last had it completely bypassing us, dumping itself on some poor schlubs to the far south and east of us.

The problem with the third model is that, while it appears to have turned out to be correct (although when I mentioned the situation to Logan, he said it had just been delayed, and would hit us later this afternoon or evening) is that it’s panic that sells. Telling the audience that everything is going to be just fine doesn’t get them doing anything about it. And to be fair, what if something does happen, and they’re unprepared? It may be a gross exaggeration, but nobody wants to be the next Galveston.

But on the other hand, too much panic, and we’re going to eventually tune it all out; I’ve certainly gotten to that point, and the last few years haven’t exactly encouraged me to get all worked up about this or that crisis supposedly coming my way. At this point, whatever happens happens, and I’ll just deal with it when it gets here; I’m not going to get exorcised about these sorts of things any more. That’s bad for the news business, but they kind of brought it on themselves. The wolves are never at the door, and even when they are, that’s when we’re told they’re only dogs.

So, since I refuse to take their misbegotten advice, honey, perhaps you could keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I – and pretty much the rest of the world – am going to need it.