The three-day weekend is winding down, and I have been looking out the window, seeing the snow falling almost non-stop since I got up this morning. Ever since mid-afternoon, cancellations have crawled across the bottom of the TV screen (night school classes, church group meetings, workshops, etc.), and Columbus Public Schools have pulled the plug on classes for tomorrow. Will the State of Ohio follow suit, so we don’t have to traipse out into the whiteout in the morning?
The last time the State of Ohio shut down for a weather-related emergency was the 1978 blizzard. I’m not even sure this qualifies as a blizzard, because the wind velocity is relatively low, despite the fact that the snow has continued to fall all day.
Again, had I not recently had surgery, I would be less worried about going to work tomorrow in the snowdrifts than I am tonight. If the State decided to open for business despite the snowfall, I’d’ve just cursed someone under my breath, bundled up, and headed out.
Now, it’s a question of my own safety. I ventured out of the house once today, walking about three blocks to the Weber Market, and I lost count of how many times I came close to falling. When the snowplow goes down Indianola Ave., it blasts snow onto the sidewalks, which means there are drifts that are up to two feet high. I had to lift my leg quite high up in the air to gain a foothold, and in doing that, came close to losing my balance.
The doctor didn’t give me a definite date as to when my incisions will be completely healed. The small strips of gauze and tape that he put over them are still in place, and I’m to let them fall off on their own. Until they do, I’m not going to consider these healed, and I’m walking around with care.
And again, the timing for this could not be worse.
Today is Presidents’ Day–a paid holiday for us State workers. If you are absent the day before or the day after a paid holiday, you have to bring in a doctor’s note upon your return, to prove you weren’t just playing hooky.
Under normal circumstances, the bus stop is merely steps away from my front door. Last Thursday, when I returned to work, the distance had never seemed more forbidding, more remote. I will go out for the bus a few minutes earlier than normal (depending on whether I’m out of bed at a reasonable time), and if I miss it, there will be another one close behind. I’m proud of my job with the State of Ohio (as much as I wring my hands about it in this blog and elsewhere), but it is not worth risking injury).