Storm of the century, for all times, end-times, apocalyptica sandwiches free for all who don’t want to die hungry. Made of gravity and rain the sandwiches go down like butter on the brain, then rise up with aspirational jujitsu. As an essential worker I get no breaks. I’ll be stomping home across 10 inches of snow accumulation while the ruling class sits comfortably at home, doing as little as possible and remaining inaccessible.I look forward to the adventure, the challenge, the war stories that will bore the snot out of anyone in hearshot. By tomorrow night, when I should be heading home, I will be walking through a visibility-free blizzard, and that’s if the subways even function. The rearrangement of the bus system in Queens has basically eliminated all local bus routes to my block, so there will of necessity be walking that would not have been necessary before.
Bring it on, I say. I still have the physical strength to rise to these challenges, but that gift may not last for many more years. My friend is 62, been healthy her whole life, but since last year she has to see a different kind of doctor every single day, she gets weekly CT scans and physical therapy. This is someone who eschewed any kind of medical attention with a vigor, but not anymore. I don’t know the details because I don’t want to have conversations like that over text.
It is time to go.