Woke up to a dusting of snow that would make a New Englander giggle at the amount of trepidation it causes us here. But we don’t plow, we don’t salt. We sprinkle fairy dust on major roads and leave the neighborhood streets to their own icy ends.
Got to the library after a drive in which half the cars on the highway drove at a an unnerving 25, and the other half at an even worse 60 mph. Called scheduled staff to check on their plans to come in. We would have about half the crew we normally have on Sundays. Shelved holds and enjoyed a chat with a staff member I rarely get to have more than a brief exchange with. Put out hot water and self-service tea for patrons, right near the fireplace.
The snow stopped, but freezing rain followed. We closed two hours early. Put signs on doors and desks. Gave impromptu announcements on the overhead speakers. Walked around the library, making sure those engrossed in screens and headphones knew. Checked that the few teens who came in had ways to get home. Encouraged that one final checkout.
Took a stranded staff member home. Admired the mutual patience of most highway drivers. Crossed the bridge to my neighborhood and prayed, yes prayed, that the driver who would need to stop behind me at the light realized in time that the slipping would come when the brakes were applied. Stayed patiently behind a pickup truck that could not get traction to move uphill once the light turned green. Moved through the remaining icy neighborhood streets with the knowledge that braking and turning would have random success. Got home. Checked on the other staff to make sure they got home too.