“Hello, Miss!,” the librarian just walked down three levels
of a handicapped ramp next to my armchair before he greeted me.
“I don’t want to alarm you but the parking lot is a skating
rink. It is very dangerous. And because it is night it is even worst,” he said
with an accent I couldn’t decipher.
It’s just me and the librarian. Why? Because I wanted to
write, and I don’t really heed “winter weather advisories.”
“So, what I did was call security. And he has to call his
boss. And he had to call his boss’s boss, the head maintenance man who is somewhere
in the area. And he is going to come and put salt down.”
Why don't we save that MIA maintenance man the effort and grab the salt shakers from the cafeteria? Then we can shake that crystallized calcium and what our mamas gave us all of the parking lot! That should do the trick!
Or, if that boss can’t be tracked down because he’s at his
house eating a homemade supper, we could all order gluten and dairy free tomato-less pizza, find someone with
cleated boots to rescue it from the delivery guy at the main gate, and have a
sleepover at the seminary!
“They said snow, but there is no snow. They said rain, but there is no rain. Only ice. I didn't think it would get this bad. I will keep you posted!”
And I will lace up my skates!
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