It has been a very dull season for local weather forecasters.
Boston has had a freakishly warm winter this season.
Even the Farmer's Almanac swore blind that this would be a record setting snowy winter. Maybe we've gotten 18 flakes so far.
So whenever there is even the most remote possibility that there could be even the smallest snow event, the weather people go friggin insane in the membrane.
It is supposed to snow Saturday night. According to the National Weather Service it is in fact supposed to be a blizzard.
Rather than tune in to some deliriously hysterical weather report, I called my mom.
Her ability to predict a major snow event is curiously accurate. I ask her if she is "battening down the hatches", although I forget now how a nautical expression came to be used as her weather indicator.
If she hasn't gone food shopping or isn't planning a big comfort food meal, then she is not battening down the hatches. Which means that no matter what the weather stations says, it is most likely that only a few flakes might fall.
However, if she is food shopping and making stew and buying batteries and bottled water and filling prescriptions, she is most definitely battening down those hatches. And to you that means STOP READING RIGHT NOW, GO BUY FOOD FOR YOUR SURVIVAL, GET A SHOVEL, GET A FLASHLIGHT, GET A BIBLE BECAUSE UH OH HERE COMES THE END.
So yeah, I called her.
Her verdict: Batten down the hatches, but not until late Saturday/ all day Sunday.