I figured that, if I thought really hard, and wished really hard, it wouldn't snow. When flakes started to come down, I said (in my best Black Knight voice) "It's merely a sprinkling!" I thought about passing out flyers to all the citizens of Trumbull telling them to stand outside with their hairdryers on high for half an hour (I had that brilliant idea once back when I was six. I wonder if it would work?) It wouldn't have mattered anyway; half of Trumbull was in Stop 'n Shop, and the other half was in the library, where I headed after stocking up on crescent rolls. (I love crescent rolls.) I figured I'd need some DVDs and books to get through the weekend. I decided (HA! Finally!) to check out all the Judy Blume books my mother forbade me to read when I was younger. When they closed the library early, I realized I'd have to give in to the fact that it was, in fact, going to be a blizzard. Everyone tells me it's not that bad, but YOU try getting snowed in with a batty, zealously religious septuagenarian and see how you feel about it.
Sidenote: Mom, a few days ago she left an article on the kitchen table for me to read. It's about how demonic forces can get into your head through alcohol, or something like that. I love her, I really do, but she's fucking scary sometimes.