It’s very important that one of you buy me a house on Florida’s Gulf Coast, because fuck this

And you thought I was having fun last week! Well, just look at how much fun I’m having this week!

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Yes, we got positively hammered with snow this past Monday … and because I was determined to finish my “Howard Stern’s Birthday Bash” wrap-up before doing anything else, I didn’t get outside with a shovel in my hand until around 8:30 p.m. … and I didn’t finish shoveling the foot-or-so of wet, heavy snow until around 11:30 p.m.

The late-night shoveling excursion probably explains why I’m now battling a cold … an ailment that arrived in the wake of Tuesday night’s freezing-rain storm, which showered down upon the snow that already had blanked the earth. And I will readily admit that the aftermath looked kind of cool:

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Visual aesthetics notwithstanding, however, this particular weather phenomenon sucked harder than a Shop Vac thanks to the massive quantities of limbs and trees it brought down … which not only further decimated the already fucked-up trees in my yard

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… but also tore down power lines all over southeastern Pennsylvania. More than 715,000 customers were without power … including — you guessed it! — us.

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The scene I captured above is actually the least devastating example I saw during my drive to work yesterday … but, after taking that particular photo and then pulling into an adjacent driveway so I could turn my car around, I promptly got stuck in the snow and ice. Fortunately, as I mentioned in a previous shitty-winter-weather-related entry, I’m a self-taught snow-and-ice stunt driver, so I was able to redneck my 15-year-old Ford Ice Skate back onto the road … but once I freed myself I decided to pull the plug on my storm-chaser photo essay and instead concentrated on navigating the winter war zone.

There’s nothing like a mass power outage to make you realize just how quickly society will fall apart if something more serious should happen … because, within hours of losing power, it felt like we were in an episode of “The Walking Dead.” Except, instead of surviving a life-and-death struggle in the midst of a global zombie apocalypse, we were faced with far dire horrors … like no Internet, no cell signal and no way to recharge our quickly dying gaggle of iPhones, iPads and Kindles.

We survived by fleeing to my brother-in-law’s home, where he and his family kindly took us in. Then, like the modern-day warrior I am, I braved the night in search of dinner. The traffic lights were out, the storefront lights were out and I was beginning to doubt my chances of success when, suddenly, like the Star of Christ, a lone, bright glow cut through the darkness.

All hail the mighty Wawa.

In the years that have passed since my unfortunate first encounter with the sandwich-ordering machine at southeastern Pennsylvania’s favorite convenient store, I’ve become a full-blown Wawa convert … and my fellow worshipers were out in full force on Wednesday night, thanks to what I can only assume was the divine intervention that powered the Wawa with the energy of a thousand suns while everything around it lay shrouded in darkness. Either that, or they have a generator.

At any rate, it was like Wawawoodstock in that place … and I could feel bearing down upon me the collective stares of the ever-growing line that was forming behind me while I navigated my way through the touchscreen ordering system. Thankfully, I was a sandwich-ordering ninja on this occasion, masterfully tapping out instructions for more than a half-dozen sandwiches of all shapes, sizes and varieties. The manager awarded me a Master’s of Sandwich-Ordering degree. I framed it. And put a chain on it. I’m wearing it around my neck right now. Pretty sure I get a free sandwich the next time I drop in.

By yesterday afternoon, with power still not restored to our home and power-company estimates indicating that we’d probably be waiting until Sunday, I decided to unburden my brother-in-law’s family by booking a non-refundable hotel room. My brother-in-law’s family, however, did not want to be unburdened, and subsequently invited us to spend a second night in their home … an offer the kids eagerly accepted, as they were having fun spending time with their cousins … which is how I almost ended up getting a night alone at the Sheraton Suites.

Almost.

After leaving work, I decided to stop by the house to grab a photo-card reader so I could download the pictures above and do some blogging from the hotel … and discovered upon my arrival that the power was back on.

I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t hesitate for a moment or two — OK, definitely two — before calling my wife to tell her that she and the kids could return home for the night.

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