I shall wear my trousers rolled

It is yet another sign of how I'm getting old (and a completely unnecessary one, as I believe the point has been proven, thanks) that last night I had dreams about waking up and checking my cell phone, specifically my phone's web browser, which was pointed at the Office of Personnel Management site, which posts information about government office closings due to inclement weather. I had climbed into bed last night still obsessively refreshing the screen until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, but the site continued to have no news about Monday one way or the other. So I drifted off, and instead of dreaming about armies of yetis or sugarplum blizzards or anything fancifully dream-journal-worthy like that, my brain simply continued to replay the same monotonous routine of rolling over, picking up my phone from the nightstand, and checking OPM.

I suppose if one were feeling generous one could argue that I have retained a modicum of inner child because even in my dreams I was hoping to see a CLOSED notification; an irredeemably mature grown-up would hope in their heart of hearts that the offices would be open so that they could be productive. (or something. I guess. I wouldn't know!)

As it turned out, the federal government decided to open offices two hours late today, presumably to give the ice on the roads a chance to melt. So I got to spend some leisurely time at home this morning, have a sit down breakfast with my lovely wife, and see my kids when they woke up before I had to hit the road. By then it was too late to take the train, but the drive in wasn't bad at all, and the frosted ice limning every branch of ever tree was actually quite lovely. I'm sure that when I drive home this evening I'll be cursing every one of my fellow human beings, but so it goes.