I was pretty happy to wake up and see snowflakes falling. I’d already decided to take the day off — a tight deadline had forced me to work an extra week’s worth of evenings, plus Saturday and Sunday — so I was committed to sloth irrespective of the weather. Having snow on the ground somehow made the experience of playing hooky seem more legitimate, though, and consequently more restful.
Washingtonians famously tend to freak out about snow. In truth, I think we only do so to the extent necessary to support a more important (and collectively beloved) winter weather meta-activity: complaining about how much everyone else freaks out about snow. I remember Don & Mike doing bits about residents stockpiling bread, milk and toiletpaper as early as their WAVA days, back when the station focused on engendering affection for C&C Music Factory rather than for Jesus. Sure, I believe that area residents don’t really know how to drive in winter conditions. But for me and for most other folks around here that belief is much less dearly-held than the broader sentiment that, once flakes start falling, everyone else becomes an idiot.
Whatever the underlying motivation, I’m glad that we overreact to snow, sleet, slush, hail, wintry mix and of course the dread black ice. This city works too hard. It would be nice if we’d drop the rationalizations and simply acknowledge our snow-induced delays as acquiescences to the pagan meteorological gods. Divine injunctions to take it easy are too few and far between. I say that for anything over two inches we officially take the day off. Not because it’s hard to get around, but just because. If any tourists look at you askance just mumble something about averting wrath.