It began Friday, the 5th. Nobody could really imagine how it would end.
It was predicted to be a "ten-loafer". In this area, where an inch of snow can send the cities into paroxysms of panic, people's anxiety can be measured by how many loaves of bread they will stock up on. (Packages of toilet paper can be substituted.) Three loaves means school will be closed for a day. At five-loaves,a foot of snow and so on. People in the Mid-Atlantic must eat a lot of french toast before shoveling.
This storm prediction emptied shelves. Bread, toilet paper, coffee, booze, you name it. Whatever your priority.
At our house, I had placed a sizable order from Peapod home delivery. My DH had stocked wood in the garage and filled the snowblower's gas tank. We were ready for it. And it came. And we saw. And it conquered. Twenty-two inches piled up in our yard.
While playing there, Mei got her boot stuck in a snowbank, pulled out her foot and ran inside in her sock. Upon returning, no one could find the boot. The plow had been through since, completing the burial. We were some of the two dozen exhausted customers at Wally World the next day--one of the few places even open--where we searched frantically for replacements.
Then we began hearing rumors of another storm coming.