3:05 p.m. — Turn on radio, public school official says no school decision yet made for tomorrow. No precipitation evident.
3:15 p.m. — City spokesperson Kerri Richardson (go Rockets, Shelby County High!) says city will use ice and scrapers but no brine to fight ice, since brine might be washed away by rain.
3:17 p.m. — Try to recall a city official ever saying, “Hell, no, we’re not sending salt trucks out. Have you seen the way people drive in this stuff?”
3:30 p.m. — Passed by salt truck on road, leaking stream of salt out of back. Still no precipitation.
3:40 p.m. — Sprinkling evident on windshield. Car ahead crosses center line for no apparent reason, regains control.
3:41 p.m. — Sprinkling stops. Driver ahead seems to have been messing with his windshield washer.
3:45 p.m. — Feel a speck on face heading into grocery store, realize it is from store employee who sneezed.
3:46 p.m. — Enter grocery, observe fear and panic in U-Scan aisle.
3:50 p.m. — Look for bread, find only rye.
3:54 p.m. — Only powdered milk available. Fumble box getting it off the shelf, it falls to floor and flakes fly. Five shoppers run screaming from the aisle.
3:55 p.m. — Decide instead of milk, bread and eggs, will substitute, Kahula, Maker’s Mark and Egg Nog.
4 p.m. — Attempt donut maneuver in parking lot with shopping cart. Too much traction.
4:30 p.m. — Run sprints in driveway at home to gauge slickness. Still no frozen precipitation.
4:31 p.m. — Note position of empty recycle bin may have changed slightly, consider possibility of weather-related slippage. Leave it at curb for observation.
4:35 p.m. — Attempt to call local radio station with recycle bin data, but lines are jammed.
5 p.m. — Check email, see slew of storm-related cancellations. Still no frozen precipitation. Kitchen barometer, however, reads: “Fear.”
6 p.m. UPDATE — News reports several accidents on area roads, police blame local meteorologists.
7 p.m. UPDATE — National weather service in Louisville says local area has received “trace amounts” of precipitation, though it says it is getting reports of some slick roads — mostly from people with bald tires. Also now some data coming in to suggest that glare on roadways from headlights is “pretty fierce.”
7:30 p.m. — One-car wreck on ramp from Shelbyville Rd. to Watterson Expressway reported. Salt truck heads over. Victim wonders why they didn’t salt ramp before.
7:45 p.m. — Conclude workout at Northeast YMCA. Ponder with others on treadmills whether we’re stuck there for the night.
8 p.m. — Leave the Y, try to test sidewalk for slick spot, but can’t find one. Gotta be the shoes.
8:01 p.m. — Notice a one-centimeter ice buildup on one windshield wiper.
8:30 p.m. — Back at home, fret over egg and milk supply. Also, over children’s dairy and egg allergies.
8:45 p.m. — Remember worst snowstorm I ever walked through, in Syracuse, N.Y., several years ago. Walked a mile back from the Carrier Dome to the car with Jerry Brewer, snow blowing up at us from the ground, and then you’d look up to keep it from flying up your nose, and it would some how hit you in the face again. Lake-effect snow. Couldn’t see the streets. Couldn’t see the interstate. Barely found hotel. Flipped on the news, when it was over, Jerry calls, “Man, that’s crazy. They didn’t even mention it. Not once. If this was at home, it would BE the news, and there wouldn’t be no Leno, either.”
9 p.m. — Consider whether every storm actually deserves its own blog.
9:15 p.m. — Shake up new snow globe with Louisville skyline inside. Miniature city bursts into flames and chaos.
9:41 p.m. — Look out window. Car roof almost lightly dusted.
9:56 p.m. — Crave bread.
Will update as events warrant . . .
Disclaimer: If you live in Louisville, you’ve been through the drill, and we laugh about it every year. But seriously, things are expected to freeze up overnight, and it doesn’t take much to make things dangerous so please be careful.