As I was getting settled in for some alone time during my lunch hour, I noticed a slight “tinkling” sound coming from the roof of the Jeep. A quick inspection of the situation revealed that it was not a seagull peeing on the Jeep because I didn’t share a piece of my cookie but rather the sound of hail hitting the car.
In response to the presence of winter weather conditions, I did what anyone in this area would normally do. I promptly flailed my arms in the air. No one was around to hear my cries of “Help me! Help me!”. I then started the Jeep, put the defroster on “recirculate” so that no outside air could get into the vehicle. This was to make sure that I was able to fog the windows up as quickly as possible, as recirculating the same air over and over produces a better fog. Once the fogging was in progress, I jammed the Jeep into four-wheel drive, slammed the accelerator down as hard as I could and went running up the embankment of the adjacent parking lot. Coming down the other side of said embankment in second gear and with a loud thud and bouncing motion, I then popped it back into two-wheel drive and made like a mad man across the parking lot, ignoring any arrows, lines or vehicular or pedestrian motion in the lot. I then pulled up in front of Dollar Tree, with the obligatory right front tire up on the curb so that I could take up as much of the fire lane as possible, and then ran inside, huffing and panting about the ice. I grabbed a cart and with big swooping motions I was able to clear two shelves of bread and toilet paper into the cart. It was just a quick stop at the dairy section for six gallons of whole milk and four gallons of skim (I could mix the two later for 2%) and faster than Laverne and Shirley could get their Scooter Pies across the finish line, I made my wait through the checkstand and went outside, flinging everything from the cart helter skelter into the Jeep. I then got in, started it up and ignoring any traffic control devices that beckoned to the contrary, took off as quickly as possible for the closest hill where I could hide and write blog entries about how awful the weather is and come up with cute names like “Snowpacalypse”, “Snowvember”, “Snowcachoochoo” and “Snowmageddon”.
Then the ice turned to rain.
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