Looks like another gray Monday. It’s cold. The milk and bread index is an 8. The word “ice” has been thrown around by the weather types. Mississippians can’t drive when it rains. We’re toast if we get an ice storm.
Why? The Mayans chuckle when it freezes here. It’s the end of the world.
There is really nothing redeeming about an ice storm. You can’t make ice angels. Or an ice fort. An Ice Man is a pilot in Top Gun. If you throw an ice ball, you’ll most likely impale your friend in the heart. (That’s not good.) The power will most likely go out — because power lines get whiny when coated with tons of ice. And if they don’t fall on their own, a pine tree will help them out. Pines don’t like ice either. But look on the bright side, you’ll get plenty of firewood and a new sunroof in your house.
Bonus.
An ice storm happens when there is warm air aloft and freezing temperatures shoehorn themselves right under it at the surface. If it is cold, warm, cold, we get sleet. Cold, cold, cold, we get wonderful snow. You know, the fun stuff. The stuff that makes the world pretty, not looking like a glazed hell.
When I was a kid, we got five inches of ice. Five. It was the apocalypse. People were out of power for Katrina-like lengths of time. Trees came down. Aquariums froze (no kidding.) I remember my dad sliding our family’s giant green station wagon up Willard Drive on his way to work. That’s when I knew it sucked to be an adult.
Which I am now. So I await the impending ice apocalypse brought on by freezing drizzle — or worse — with clinched teeth.
But I still say this one truth: Ice is only good for drinks. And I have a feeling we’ll all need one by tomorrow.