So NOT a Snow Day

One great relief to me here on Monkey Island is that each day the monkeys leave for school for a minimum of six hours. It's nice. I have total quiet in my home. It's just me and the kitten going about our business in a quite home. Departures are staggered. Baby Monkey gets on the big yellow ferry, better known as a school bus, at 6:30 a.m. The Princeling, now a responsible driver, shaves a little time off his commute by driving himself to school via the direct route. He leaves at 7:00 a.m. The Middle Monkey then is the last to leave at 7:10, when he begins his cross-country trek to his school. I try to lay low in my room and not emerge until all the early morning preparations are done, and the sound of screeching has subsided. That was not the case this morning.
A winter storm was approaching, and for the previous 24 hours our local t.v. "meteorologists" predicted doom and gloom. People have been mobbing grocery stores in search of milk, eggs and bread. We've been told that by morning drive time our entire world would be iced over, and death and destruction would rain down upon us. Everyone anticipated the apocolypse.
At 6:25 a.m. I awoke. I groped for my eyeglasses and lifted my head from my pillow. Lucky for me, I have a window right next to my bed, so I reached over and pulled back the curtain to check the weather situation. It was cloudy, but nothing more. Hmmmm. The storm was set to begin at 3:00 a.m. I guess the storm's clock was running slow. But this was a good thing! If the storm arrived later, the chances were that temperatures would be warmer and there would be no ice storm. No ice storm, no closed schools. I rolled back onto my pillow.
I heard Kong moving along the hallway and checking into the monkey cages. I heard him tell the Princeling that he may not drive his car to school today. It's better to take the bus than have a teenage driver on an icy road . . . just in case. The Princeling moaned, and I heard him begin calling friends on his cell phone to inform them that he could not provide transportation to them this morning. All was well, I thought to myself. I attempted to fall back to sleep, but before long I heard a yelp come from the Princeling's cage. In fact, it wasn't so much a yelp as a primal sound of happiness. I knew that sound. No. NO. NOOOOOOOOO!
The Princeling announced to no one in particular that school was closed. I heard him call his friends on his cell phone and confirm the news that they had all just read on the school website. NO SCHOOL. I raised myself up and looked out the window again. There was nothing but a mildly wet road outside. What was going on in the minds of the administrators at the monkey's Catholic school? Was this their way of forcing pennance upon us as the lenten season begins? Dear Lord, what did I do to deserve this? My only hope for a tiny sliver of peace today was that Middle Monkey would have classes today.
I was about to get up and begin zookeeping when I heard the Princeling run into the cage shared by the Baby and the Middle monkeys. The Princeling was announcing loudly to Middle Monkey that indeed, he had school today! "You have school! I don't! You have school! I don't!" Such juvenile behavior from someone who is nearly 18! But, I thought, at least I'll only have two home today. Middle Monkey prepared to leave, and as a special treat, the Princeling drove him to school, saving Middle Monkey the 1.5 mile hike. That was nice of him.
But now, as I sit here typing this, I can hear the Princeling and the Baby begin their teasing and taunting. Rather than going back to bed and at least providing me with some peace while they lay unconscious, they have decided to fire up the television and turn on the Testosterone Network. That's the Cartoon Network to you and me. These are 15 and 17 year-old young men, by the way.
I wonder what it's like in Florida? No snow days. Well, I suppose they do have the hurricane season. Maybe Georgia, then? It's warm. They have virtually no snow. They are relatively well protected from hurricanes. Ugh! Enough fantasizing. I have to just face my reality. Perhaps if I light candles and say rosaries, I will be granted the miracle of a peaceful day.