It’s nearly midnight on Thursday, going into the third day following the big overnight snowstorm of January 21-22, and everything is still shut down.

Main roads — not just side streets — are still closed. Businesses, and even medical offices . . . closed. Schools, of course, are closed. I haven’t even seen a UPS or Amazon truck in our neighborhood, although I didn’t have anything on order this week so I wasn’t really watching for them.

I’m told some of the bigger cities here in Georgia do have road treatment facilities — plows, sand trucks, etc. But here in the small towns and rural areas, they simply don’t exist.

The American South does not do snow. But it was done to us this week, and we’ve been forced into doing it . . . mostly indoors.

I’m a transplant, a born-and-bred Northerner. A damn Yankee, very much out of my element here in the summertime (which lasts about 10 months out of every 12). But I do snow . . . or I did, when I still owned boots and heavy coats. I knew how to walk in it, how to drive in it, and how to build a snowman.

This, to me, is just freakin’ hilarious.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
1/23/25