No Way No How

All week I've been in Louisville. I came down here to go to my sister Claire's Peacock warehouse sale and hang out with my other sister Liv one more time before she flees to Italy for six months. I planned to head back to Chicago five days ago. Then came the ice storm. It was no joke:



So, first some snow happened. Then a lot of ice. Then more snow. I got up at 6:30AM on the first morning of the citywide TOTAL FREAKOUT AND EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN and went into my mom's room to whine:

Me: Mom, I have to get internet access! Right now!
Mom (in sleepy voice): Well, I don't know what to tell you.
Me: I have to go to the coffee shop!
Mom: It's slick out there. You don't have to go anywhere.
Me: I'm leaving. I'll just drive up there. I can make it.
Liv (entering room): What's going on? How are we ever going to get out of here?
Me (panicked): Yeah, we have to get out of here!
Mom: Ya'll need to stop it. I've been up five minutes and you're already stressing me out.

The day went by, and more ice came. Mom, Liv and I watched American Idol that night and then we went to bed. The lights flickered. "Oh no," Liv said down the hall in her room. "It's only a matter of time," I whispered, so quiet no one could hear. At 3:30AM the lights went out for good, and ever since then we've been camping out at my Aunt Jenny and Uncle Mike's house, which is great because they have lightening fast internet access. They also have a dog named Henry who is highly decorative but who has always been a biter. He hangs out in the kitchen most of the time, so if you want a glass of water you have to ask Uncle Mike to get it. Our friend Cecily, a jewelry designer visiting from California, stayed there with us last night, and when she saw the sign on the kitchen door that says, "Beware of dog. Stay out of kitchen," she thought it was a joke. She got a bite.

P.S. The other day when every road was covered in snow and ice and there were downed trees and power lines blocking our progress at every turn, we drove to the hardware store to get some keys made. (The key story is a whole separate situation and I don't think you'd be all that interested.) Anyway, at St. Matthews Hardware, a man asked us if we were looking for sleds.

Man: Lookin' fer sleds?
Us: Nope. We're not sledding. We need keys. Are you sledding?
Man: Aw hell, I ain't goin' sleddin.' No way no how, dammit.