It's really quite beautiful out. The sun rising, the snow still coming down everywhere. When the sun comes up in the morning here everything outside of my window turns pink. Today, however, it's white. I can't see the sun for the snow.
I went to the grocery store across the street last evening, about six. I would be surprised if they had any inventory left at all at this point. I had to wait for some guy to dump his vegetables onto the conveyor belt at the check-out and then -- quick! -- take his shopping basket. After I found everything I needed, I stood in one of the check-out lines for forty-five minutes. There were 18 people ahead of me for one of the seven cashiers, and that was the shortest line.
Paranoid people. Buying gas masks so quickly no one can keep them in stock. Duct-taping and plastic-sheeting their dorm room windows for fear of chemical and bacterial agents. Stocking up on bottled water in case the water supply is contaminated. Buying out the grocery store the night before a big storm, because who knows if they won't have to close the bridges or something? Island living aids paranoia. The fear of isolation.
This morning, after a night warring with my stomach, I rose to find that all of our classes were cancelled for the day. I trudged to Barnard anyway for my gyn appointment. Six blocks is a long journey if nothing's been shoveled. I showed up, covered with snow, my hair frozen and my feet soaked, only to find out that Health Services was -- like everything else -- closed for the day. Oh, darn. I guess I'll be giving the speculum a miss. *wink*