After an hour spent shifting white stuff that was distinctly not vertical except in the huge, thick drifty fashion, I think I’m due, don’t you? I moved much of the pile that was over our front garden into the lawn (the girls now have an excellent pair of snow forts). Then I refilled that same area with snow from the driveway. And it’s still falling. sigh
So, where’s my ivory tower, anyway? I mean, now that I think of it, there has been a distinct lack of ivory or other towers in my academic career. The math building at my undergraduate institution doesn’t count, although it wins props for the excellent wind tunnel created by the ground level walk-through. And my grad school’s library was ivory in tone but much more fortress-like than tower like (hence the sobriquet, Fort Book). Here, we have just one tall building (the tallest structure in the region, I believe, at eleven stories) called, appropriately enough, “The Tower” (okay, it has a more prosaic name, but everyone ignores that except if you’re having to give directions to a newcomer at which point you say “the XYZ Building also known as the Tower, over there“) but since I only venture up there to get forms from Personnel, wrassle with credit card woes at the Treasury office or occasionally attend meetings, it doesn’t really feel much like mine.
I’m afraid the snow drifts outside are as close as I’m getting to the ivory tower. Dang it!