We're at SnowCon One, Folks

I live in a town that is nestled high in the 'mountains' of Arkansas.  While this means that driving in and out of here is generally about as easy as directing water buffalo ballet, it does not translate to an increase in wintery precipitation.  So when Dashing Young Weatherman predicts snow, it's pretty much the same kind of general chaos as in the rest of the south, only a tiny bit scarier for two main reasons:

1.  As we live up in 'mountainous' terrain, there are lots and lots of hills that turn cars into self-propelling automotive death sleds.

2.  When the power lines were run into the county, some genius decided that we only needed one set of main transmission lines, which come in over a river and are anchored on the side of a cliff, making it only accessible by helicopter.

The particular cliff is heavily wooded, which makes the chances of power disruption by falling snowy branch abnormally high.  And when that line is damaged, the entire county loses power for however long it takes for the power people to scrounge up a helicopter and dangle someone off the cliff over the river to fix it.  This usually takes about a week, which I'm sure you can imagine is an incredibly long time when you're freezing your tootsies off.

My only consolation in all of this is that the house I live in has wood heat, so while I might die from Internet withdrawal, I won't actually freeze to death.  Me and the dogs are going to hole up with a stack of blankets, a stack of books, and a stack of dog biscuits.  See you on the flip side.