We’re having a ‘snow day’. The schools are shut, my job interview has been cancelled, my family are unlikely to get a flight over from Ireland, the man who was going to come and mend my husband’s car won’t be doing that now and there’s a pretty strong chance that the cat won’t be leaving the house this side of April. Not teaching her to use a litter tray is beginning to look like an error of judgement.
Don’t get me wrong; I like snow. I built the world’s most inadequate snowman the last time it snowed. He made it to about 11 inches because I had to keep going back into the house every 3 minutes to recover limb sensation. Once you’re in the house you get sucked into Twitter or re-runs of ER or catching up on yesterday’s episode of the Archers. Chris is on the mend, in case you were wondering.
I got up at stupid o’clock today, same as usual. Looked out at the predicted snow, sighed and started to compute all the troubles that would come with it; I think this means I’m a grown-up. I still got dressed as though everything hadn’t been thrown into disarray; I put on a newly purchased shirt and my smart work trousers so that I could impress the interviewer with my ability to buy stuff and look like I have a job but the shoes were problematic. My work shoes look fine from the top but let in water like they were designed for straining pasta rather than keeping feet comfy and dry, so I was forced to go to Plan B: the boots! I like my boots. They’re comfy. I’m definitely a comfort over style kind of a person as you would be able to assess from a glance if you ever saw me. However, the boots are a bit scuffed and don’t really go with the trousers and shirt. Alright, they look like I made them from papier maché, had them sprayed in a tanning booth in Essex then wore them to clog dance my way from Liverpool to Sheffield and back. I didn’t! The tanning booth was in Runcorn.
Wearing smart stuff from neck to ankles and raggedy boots made me feel like my feet were the only part of me that was actually me but also made me think the interviewer might give the job to everything from the ankles up but not the feet. This would make certain aspects of the work tricky: standing up, walking, doing a sly tap-dance in the toilets if the day was dragging on a bit. So it was a bit of a relief when the school texted to say it was closed and the company rang to cancel my interview. This just leaves me unlikely to see my Irish family just yet and my husband’s car troubles may have to stretch into next week. Not good, but at least we’re all safe in the house. With an untrained cat. Now all I have to do is decide whether I’ll watch ER or the box set of Columbo. I know! Let’s see if we can make a snowman that’s a foot and a half!