January 11, 2025 – 9:37 AM
Diary of a Snowbound Visionary, Day 4 (Now Actually Day 2)
Dear survivors of Snow-pocalypse 2025 – January Edition,
The snow continued its half-hearted assault well into the evening yesterday. Like a toddler trying to flip a table but only managing to nudge the salt shaker, nature’s performance was… underwhelming. Now, as I peer outside on this frigid morning, I estimate a grand total of approximately three inches of snow. I haven’t officially measured because let’s be honest, I don’t want to walk outside with a ruler.
The birds, however, are braver. They peck desperately at whatever remains of the seed we scattered before the storm of the century. Their confusion mirrors my own. The squirrels, normally a band of fearless marauders, have retreated to the shadowy corners of my yard. Their tiny faces say it all: What even is this nonsense?
Despite nature’s baffled state, duty calls. I shall soon brave the elements once again to prepare my truck for travel. Will the roads be an icy death trap? Will they be nothing more than a slushy inconvenience? I do not know—but I will find out, armed with nothing more than courage, a windshield scraper, and heated seats.
Today’s journey takes me to the Symphony rehearsal. The Empire Strikes Back, fittingly, demands my presence. The frozen planet of Hoth has never felt more relatable. My French Horn stands ready. Overtime awaits. If the storm intensifies, I may play the “Imperial March” as I navigate treacherous turns.
And so, dear readers, I leave you now to begin my preparations. The road lies before me, the snow lies beneath it, and somewhere, someone is still trying to find a loaf of bread.
Pray for my tires.
© 2025, Robert Owen. All rights reserved.
