Day 1 of Juno: The Snowpocalypse

My husband using a flip flip to remove snow from our windshield because we are terrible at winter.

If you are a reader of this blog, then you know me for being the winsome, glasses-wearing, Brooklyn-dwelling woman that I am. Well, right now, as you may already know, my Brooklyn dwelling is under attack: an attack of snow.

That's right, folks. We've got a blizzy on our hands ("blizzy", by the way, is how I am choosing to say "blizzard" at this present moment. Don't question it). Right now, all of New York City is covered in this inexplicable, menacing white powder, and it seems to be accumulating at an alarming rate. If I had to provide a metaphor for this phenomenon, I'd say that this town is being puked on by a ghost. A super mean, super vindictive ghost.

And this ghost has a name: Juno. That's what they are calling this storm. But this Juno is not some sardonic, pregnant teenager. No, no. She is not Ellen Page wearing a fake stomach. She is not the cheese to my macaroni. She is not honest to blog. (By the way, are we all up on our Juno references?)

She is a blizzy, and she is the worst.

Except, actually...she's not really the worst. Truth be told, I've had a pretty baller day surrounded by crazy ol' Juno. I've spent a good majority of my time indoors wearing garments that resemble compression socks (and on second thought, they may actually be compression socks, who knows). I've watched several episodes of Friends. I secretly took pictures of my husband while he napped. It was kind of a perfect day. So perfect, in fact, that I managed to score the last bag of coffee from my local coffee shop after we realized that we were out.

And in fact, much like movie-Juno, I think I'm ready to ride this thing out to full-term. We've got enough food to last us the week, if we need to. This morning, Daniel and I made it our mission to collect the appropriate supplies. I had it in my mind to go to Trader Joe's because, duh, cookie butter. While we were getting ready for the day, I mentioned to Daniel that I expected it to be pretty crowded. "I may have to throw some bows," I said, joking, of course.

But when we drove up to Trader Joe's, I realized I had totally underestimated how seriously people were taking this storm. There was a line around the block of yuppy moms and guys with beards and freezing kids with scooters. It turns out that in order to get our food supplies from Trader Joe's, I would have to do something far worse than elbow a yoga instructor: I'd have to wait in a line. In the snow. What the hell were those weirdoes thinking?

So we said screw that, and we went to a grocery store in our neighborhood that was relatively crowdless. We followed that up with a trip to the hardware store to buy an ice scraper and some ear plugs (our walls are thin, and I don't want the sounds of blizzard romance to interrupt my Doctor Who marathon). After that, we went to the liquor store, and when I went to purchase my two bottles of wine, the guy at the register said, "That's it?" Once again, I was reminded how ill-equipped I am for a storm of this magnitude.

Once we got home, it was chill city. The hubs and I caught up on SNL, and he took a much-deserved nap. Daniel's been sick for the past week, and when he talks it sounds like his voice is trying to get through the seven layers of the Mucus Forest in his face.

Sick Daniel. For the record, I said, "Make a sick face."

Needless to say, I was glad that he finally got a chance to rest. It gave me an opportunity to follow all of the #Blizzardof2015 activity on Twitter. In case you weren't around today, everyone on the Internet has been collectively losing their minds as a result of this potentially historic storm.

But it wasn't just those with access to Twitter. In fact, my cat, Frasier, has been freaking the geek out all day. It's like he knows something is amiss. He can sense it, and the result is pure madness. One minute he's snuggling so close that it feels like he's trying to burrow into my thigh, the next minute he's darting under every piece of furniture he can, and the next he's staring out the window with a vacant expression that suggests he's receiving transmissions from his home planet.

So anyway, to be clear, I am doing just fine. We've still got power. I'm wearing fleece-lined leggings and clutching a glass of wine. Daniel and I are about to have a dance party, probably. So far, Juno has been kind of a blast. And honest to blog, she's actually really pretty.

Are you also experiencing the effects of Juno?

Or are you somewhere warm and wonderful?

Give me a shout in the comments!

Oh, and before I go: Mom, I promise I'm fine. I'm sure you're worried that I'm going to wander out into the eye of this blizzard (do blizzards have eyes?), but I'm not. I promise I'm staying inside. After all, being inside is one of my favorite states of being. Also, I have warm socks on, I swear. Oh, and sorry for all of those Juno references that you probably didn't get. It's a really good movie. It's not on Netflix, though. Sorry.