Thursday (preparation): Doom, gloom, and catastrophe is all over the airwaves and online. We're going to be buried under three feet of solid ice. It's the new Ice Age, and it's starting in central Arkansas. The reports I read actually said that we were gonna have some sleet and "wintry mix" and then it was going to be so cold that it wouldn't melt for a few days. The behavior of other people in the area is where I came up with that first scenario.
Bella has a madrigal dinner tonight, in which she is playing the queen. It's not cancelled. It's cold and rainy, but not yet quite cold enough for sleet, though temps are dropping steadily. I take a sedative and head to Wal-Mart for a few perishable groceries, having already been tipped off that Kroger's shelves were bare. There is not a single loaf of bread (not that we eat a loaf of bread a month, but I'm thinking if the power goes out there're at least PB&Js to be had) on the shelves, and precious few eggs. I am missing my hens.
Instead of buying food, I buy the components of food and pray the electricity won't go out. Baking and cooking provides something to do if we're housebound, at least. Right? I stop at Dollar General after a mentally harrowing 30 minute wait in a Wal-Mart checkout line and buy what is literally their last loaf of bread. Get home, realize we won't likely use it, and toss it in the freezer.
Go to Bella's madrigal dinner, it's very cold and rainy, but the performance is a hoot, and she is fantastic. We hurry home, let the dogs out for one last potty, and hunker down for ICEAMAGEDDON. The sleet begins late at night.
Friday: I wake up at my usual ridiculous early time, and there's already ice everywhere. Down in the holler, I know it's worse than up top. Later in the morning, I need something out of my car, and have to pour hot water along the seal of the door to get it to open because it's frozen shut. The forecast is worse than ever, the National Weather Service is going nuts about WINTER STORM DEON. I bake chia nut bars. They look like barf but are tasty (in that way that lets you know it's HEALTHY--you know what I mean) and filling. I bake blueberry bread. It has no nutritional value aside from blueberries and calories, and is delicious. We eat an entire loaf over the course of the day. We eat chili and crackers and watch movies. Bella paints, I read. Cabin fever sets in. I let Bella stay up ridiculously late to watch City of Bones, which we agree sucks muchly. I go to bed with the useless cat, who's been allowed inside for the duration of below-freezing temps. I watch all of "The Blacklist." I sleep fitfully.
Saturday: Conditions down in the holler unchanged. Now we're bored silly. Even the cat sat in the windowsill for awhile before getting back in my bed. There is zero possibility of negotiating my long, steep, curvy, very much frozen solid driveway. All day long there is a running debate with the boyfriend over whether or not he could make it over here. As much as I'd like to see him, we decide not to risk his hide. I cook a country breakfast at 1:00 p.m., which is when Bella gets up. I bake brownies. We eat them all over the course of the day. We're coming out of this weighing 400 pounds, I'm sure.
At approximately 9:00 p.m. I call my mother, who lives in town, to see how they're handling the boredom of being housebound, and find out that the rest of the world outside the holler IS DRIVING AROUND DOING THINGS. Stores are open. Our mail ran. (I know this because Bella went stir crazy and climbed the hill and got it.) The forecast has now been slightly amended, which means they still have no idea what's happening, but apocalypse by ice has apparently been taken off the table. Donna N. still refuses to give me her recipe for scones, or I'd have made those to go with the strawberry jam I made.
My frozen driveway mocks me, and I fear I'm going slightly mad. Will update as situation continues.