Booze, screaming, and hiding: I already know how my snow day is going to play out
Forget “Groundhog Day” with Bill Murray. This is “Snow Day” with Jeff Edelstein. (OK fine, “Groundhog Day” is obviously better and Bill Murray >>>>>>>> me but ... bear with me: I know how this snow day is going to play out. I’ve seen this movie before ...)
6:45 a.m.: Roll over in whatever bed/couch I happen to be sleeping in (because one or both of my daughters have climbed into my bed at some point during the night and/or because my wife kicked me out due to excessive snoring and/or I fell asleep downstairs) and check my phone to see, yes, indeed, school is cancelled.
6:46 a.m.: Put a pin in the fact we’re all going to be stuck in the house all day and roll back over to go back to sweet, sweet sleep. Don’t have to wake the kids up for school.
6:47 a.m.: Deep, happy, sigh, knowing we can all at least sleep late.
6:48 a.m.: Every child is now awake and screaming “It’s snowing!” followed by “no school!”
6:49 a.m.: My son: “Can I go outside?”
6:50 a.m.: Me to my daughters: “Stop fighting with each other.”
6:51 a.m.: Me to my son: “Leave your sisters alone.”
6:52 a.m.: Me silently questioning every life decision I’ve ever made. Then I’ll stand up, mumble something about having to use the bathroom, and lock myself in the bathroom until my wife screams my name. I have my phone, there’s running water, a soft floor mat. I can last for days.
7:08 a.m.: “JEFF !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ” 7:09 a.m.: Flush toilet, go downstairs. The TV is on, every toy is out, my wife is frazzled and mad at me for locking myself in the bathroom.
7:10 a.m.: “Can I go outside?” 7:11 a.m.: “Stop fighting with each other.”
7:12 a.m.: “Leave your sisters alone.”
7:13 a.m.: I put “Elf” on, thus buying myself 97 minutes of peace.
7:13 a.m. - 8:50 a.m.: Check Twitter, email, etc. Let boss know I’ll be working from home. Check and recheck the weather report like a purposefully dehydrated hamster tapping for water.
8:51 a.m.: Wife announces “We’re done with TV for the day.” I shudder. Up to me, I’d give them the remote and a box of Lucky Charms and lock myself in the bathroom.
8:52 a.m.: My son stops asking and just gets his boots and snow pants on to go outside. His sisters then loudly demand the same.
8:53 a.m. - 9:07 a.m.: Wrestle daughters into snow pants and boots.
9:08 a.m.: They all go outside. 9:09 a.m. - 9:11 a.m.: Enjoy a steaming cup of coffee as I gaze out the window into the middle distance, smile softly to myself as I see a pair of squirrels frolic in the snow, marvel at the beauty of the universe.
9:12 a.m.: “WE’RE COLD! OPEN THE DOOR!”
9:13 a.m. - 9:37 a.m.: Wrestle daughters out of snow pants and boots.
9:38 a.m.: Announce I’m “going up to the attic to work.”
9:39 a.m. -12:08 p.m.: Make a bunch of FanDuel lineups; check Reddit; make half-assed attempt to write a snow day column; repeatedly yell downstairs “I’m working!” when my children or my wife seeks to engage me (peppered with a dozen “Stop fighting with each other!”s and a handful of “Leave your sisters alone!”)
12:09 p.m.: Text boss: “Listen man, getting nothing done here. Just mark me down for a personal day.”
12:10 p.m.: My wife made delicious lentil soup for lunch. And since I’m officially off the clock, debate having a beer.
12:32 p.m.: My wife to me: “You’re already having a second beer?”
1:45 p.m.: The television is back on thank goodness.
3:02 p.m.: Go outside to shovel for the first of three efforts. (For the record: In my advancing age I’ve found the “shoveling a few times instead of all at once” to be a much better method.)
4:13 p.m.: Debate if it’s time for bourbon.
4:40 p.m.: My wife: “Is that your third bourbon?”
5:28 p.m.: Things we haven’t covered: The kids went back outside at some point and had fun; I snuck in a 15 minute nap when no one was paying attention; I wonder if shoveling the snow is going to give me a heart attack; I haven’t showered and have no plans to until after the kids go to sleep; checked Twitter 3,000 times (that’s standard), more shoveling.
5:37 p.m.: Sit down to my wife’s spaghetti and meatballs, which she’s been cooking since daybreak. I’d put her meatballs up against anyone’s, and yes, that’s a legit challenge. Come at me, bruh.
6:08 p.m. - 9:37 p.m.: Bourbon, baths, and bedtime. Honestly, that should be the title of my autobiography.
10:06 p.m. - daybreak: Plop down on the couch. Grab the remote. See if “Groundhog Day” is on demand. Fall asleep on couch or get kicked out of bed for snoring or ...