Snow rumbles against the floorboards pushing me sideways. Flakes as big as doilies flutter into my headlights as the wipers do the best they can. They’re calling for a foot in the outlying areas and an outlying area is right where I’m headed, to my own dismay and Andree’s sputtering disbelief. Tyrone’s call came shortly before midnight. I rolled out of bed and summoned my strength.
“You’re out of your friggin’ mind,” was how Andree put it.
“Come on, it’s not that bad out,” I struggled into my pants. “The weather guys always overdo it.”
“Fine. I’m unplugging the phone.”
“You should be glad he called. You know how I get.”
How I get is pretty unbearable. Instead of the usual mood swings I bottom out completely. Without weed all the wheels stop turning and I mope around heaving sighs of despair. Any task seems beyond me. I can’t sleep and I have nothing to say. It’s not like I take it out on Andree, but hey, she’s there.