Nina In New York: It's Weird That We Even Wanted A Blizzard, Juno?

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Oh, hey, was it supposed to snow or something? It's weird, but all my personal electronic devices spontaneously combusted, and my radio killed my television in a bizarre murder-suicide, and my computer melted and also I went blind and deaf and I forgot everything I've ever known about the English language and I managed to lock myself in my basement for the last four days, silly me. It's been a doozy of a week. Despite all that, I somehow feel like I still got wind of some type of major blizzard or snowpocalypse or maybe it was a "storm of the century?" I don't know where it's been coming from, but I keep getting this sense that we're all supposed to be trapped in our homes, buried under fifty feet of densely packed snow, eating baked beans out of cans and deciding how to begin rebuilding society from scratch. So, are we?

Hang on, it's a miracle. I can see and hear and I found that pesky basement door latch. Looks pretty nice out to me. Maybe I'll go for a jog? You know, for the first time ever in my life.

I can't for the life of me figure out the disappointment we all feel when a calamitous weather report falls flat. Did I really want to deal with two and a half feet of snow, as they're doing up in New England right now? Did I actually look forward to being snow-bound with an ornery, restless toddler for days on end? Did I want to have to cancel plans and eat cold baked beans and use the fourteen different kinds of sub-par flashlights I bought in a frenzy on Monday morning? Of course not. And yet, here I am. Crestfallen. There's a sad trombone womp-womping in my ears.

I think the feeling is sort of akin to that sense of vindication I got when I was a kid and told my mother I needed to stay home sick from school. She would always act extremely dubious and threaten me with a day filled with odious errands if I was really and truly too sick to go to class. I could feel her scrutinizing my appetite and my energy level, and when I'd vomit all over the A&P parking lot I'd sink into this overwhelming relief. Partly because my bagel was on the pavement and out of my stomach, but also largely because I had just validated my self-diagnosis and justified a day on the couch. I'd gone from suspected truant to confirmed trooper in one fell puke. I wasn't just a complainer—I was a legitimate sufferer. Plus, proving your mom wrong is always an added bonus.

It's like that with the weather. Up in Boston, they're deep in the weeds. They're earning their drinks tonight, they're experiencing all that the weather gods can throw at them. Meanwhile, our entire city shut down for a quantity of snow that could be produced from three Minnesotans sneezing. That's right. I'm pretty sure they sneeze snow up there.

Oh well. We move on. I look forward to the next hysterical winter storm watch, which we'll believe with as much twisted hope as we always do. We're resilient like that.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!