Yesterday Boston broke the record for most snow ever in a winter. There were no celebrations, no sparklers or fireworks, just groaning and complaining. Snow stopped being pretty about 13 or 14 inches ago. It snowed here as well, and the night was cold with a howling wind. I was lying in bed listening and thinking in black and white about Dracula or the Wolfman.
The morning was busy starting with the dentist at ten. It was an interesting experience. First I had a different hygienist then came the coup de foudre. The new hygienist’s chair was heated and had three different massage settings. It was wonderful. My back felt better and my teeth were whiter.
I also stopped in a couple of other places for St. Patrick’s Day stuff, and I wanted to check to see if the store had cut up turnip. They did not but did cut it for me. Now I just have to skin it. Tomorrow will be the rest of the shopping.
I went to St. Patrick’s Grammar School so we always had March 17th as a holiday. The public schools in my town didn’t have the day off, but those in Suffolk County which included Boston did. It was for Evacuation Day which celebrates the date when the British troops evacuated Boston during the American Revolutionary War. Nobody really calls it that. They all call it St. Patrick’s Day.
When I was a kid, I walked everywhere and was never late. In winter I got to school in the morning with enough time to freeze while waiting in the school yard for the bell. At the movies I ended up eating half my candy before the cartoon even started. In high school I’d wait for the bus, and if it was raining, my hair and shoes always got soaked. I used to tell my students that punctuality is the sign of a civilized society. They were never impressed.
I don’t like waiting for people who are late. It seems as if they don’t care about keeping me waiting. They always have an excuse.
If I’m alone and not expected anywhere, time doesn’t matter. I move at my own pace. The day is broken into activities, not hours. I don’t even wear a watch.
