Bragging never works the way you want it to. It always comes back to bite you.
Since the snow hit last week, I've been telling everyone, “I don't have any,” with a somewhat smug smile like the one I watched George W. Bush wear for eight years.
Everywhere I went, there was snow on the roads and people's lawns. There was ice on the driveways, slush in the parking lots and general winter unpleasantness. My daily commute began with dry pavement and green grass. But as I passed through Amherst, I saw snow on the trees and all along the grass on the 990. As I entered Lockport, there seemed to be snow everywhere. Granted, it wasn't a lot of of snow. Nothing we couldn't handle. But snow nonetheless. And as I mentioned, “I don't have any.”
I fell asleep on the couch Sunday night as I admired the glow that came off of our new Christmas tree. There was Christmas music on the radio and I was very much feeling the Christmas spirit, as I've mentioned before that I often do.
Monday morning, however … Bah, humbug. What's with all this white stuff outside? My happy little paradise of green grass and dry roads had gotten covered in snow overnight. And my first thought? Not that I'd have to warm my car up. Not that I'd have to brush it off. Not that this would add another 10 minutes to my commute. Nope. My first thought was that I'd have to eat some crow from all the “I don't have any's,” that I've been telling people.
Then it occurred to me that I'd have to start the car early and it would take more time to get to work. And that simply compounded my braggadocios dilemma.
Of course, it's just a little snow and living in Buffalo, we pride ourselves on our ability to deal with the snow. Heck, it could snow three feet in a day and that wouldn't slow us down. Right?
Well, a week ago I would have said as much … before that debacle on the Thruway last week where motorists got stranded for the better part of a day while government officials did their best to look like Keystone Cops. The thought that a little snow not only slowed us down, but stopped us altogether is a bit humbling.
I'm all-too-familiar with that particular tract of pavement where the Thruway became a parking lot. I used to drive it daily. And when the snow hit, I told everyone I knew, “I'm just glad that's not part of my daily commute anymore.”
I'd then add, “I don't have any.”
And just like Buffalo as a whole lost the right to be self-righteous about dealing with the snow last week, I lost my right to be self-righteous about not having to deal with the snow as Sunday turned into Monday.
After all, bragging never works the way you want it to. It always comes back to bite you.