The sins of some people are blatant and march them right into court. The sins of others don’t show up until much later. The same with good deeds. Some you see right off, but none are hidden forever.‘
1 Tim. 5:24-25
Laying in bed on Thursday night, Ian fervently told me, “This definitely makes me want to ensure that this is our last winter in New England.” He spoke from the depths of misery attainable only after you’ve spent four hours driving six miles home. I agreed, my zealousness fired by my complete failure to ride my bike home in a blizzard that had already laid down six inches of snow by the time I stepped foot outside. Two young Charles River employees in a pickup truck drove me an hour and a half home, in the opposite direction of their commute. As we made our way eastward on Route 20, they said, “At least we’re getting somewhere,” since Route 20 westbound had become a parking lot thanks to too many drivers in fresh snow.
The next morning I rode 10 miles in an hour through everything from heavy slush to wet-but-clear roads, walked two miles through slick, untreated, unrideable snow (even with studded tires; I’m limited by my bicycling skill, which is still pretty minimal), randomly met a man standing on the side of the road who happened to be a good friend of one of my coworkers, helped push a van partway up a hill, and accepted a ride for the remaining mile from a stranger who had also pushed the van uphill. He worked across the street from Charles River. That evening I left at 3:30, rode all the way on Route 20 (a first), and arrived home 12 miles and an hour later praying that the Nor’easter scheduled to hit Saturday night doesn’t actually deposit the predicted three to five inches of new ice/sleet/snow/slickness.
Oh, for above-freezing temperatures and rain every day for months!