o1mnikent

It snowed four inches last night, which means that people around here are finding new and creative ways to freak out. School was canceled, so Shelly and I decided to enjoy our morning by making pancakes.

Our plans were thwarted when I realized we didn’t have any pancake mix left.

“Where is the pancake mix?” A fitting question, except that I am notorious for staring several minutes into the pantry while looking directly at the food I cannot find.

“Where do you think it is?”

“It’s not here. I swear. There’s no pancake mix.”

“It’s there.”

“No, seriously. It’s not here.”

“Okay, let me look.”

She did, and soon confirmed that I was, in fact, right. For the second time in SEVEN MONTHS. The first time was when I told her she shouldn’t put my sweater in the dryer.

I decided to go to the store. Normally an easy task, but it took a lot longer this morning than I intended. Not because the roads were bad (although they were), but because my neighbor was shoveling the driveway, and since we share a driveway, I felt compelled to help before leaving, even though four inches of snow hardly necessitates shoveling.

Ten minutes later, when I had safely determined that it would no longer be impolite to leave, I left.

I dislike driving in the snow here in Lynden, not because I’m a bad driver (I lived in Michigan for six years), but because everyone else is. Most people around here drive unnecessarily large trucks for reasons that are more Freudian than practical, which made it easier for me to watch one slide onto the curb while I drove to the grocery store in my trusty Oldsmobile.

And made the pancakes taste that much better.