Ahhhh, the snowstorm that bedeviled the mid-West has slammed into my corner of New England good and hard.

Joy.

It too me 7 solid hours to travel 7 miles, a trip that on a bad traffic day day would take me 25 minutes. GAH!

I was stuck in one place about 10 cars away from a traffic light for 45 minutes, or 56 cycles of green-to-red.

On the upside, I made many, many new temporary friends. People would roll down their windows and have deep, meaningful conversations with people stuck in traffic traveling the opposite way.

I even got out of my car no less than a dozen times to clear off the snow. I also had deep, meaningful conversations with other commuters who were doing pretty much the same thing.

Then there was the fun part: abandoned cars. Indeed, the main road to my house looked more like a snow-covered used car lot than, y'know, an actual road.

This is what happens when the city of Boston (and all surrounding communities) decide to compress rush hour from its usual 3 p.m. to 6:45 p.m. to one hour between noon and 1 p.m.

If this was ever a real emergency, we'd be screwed. Hardcore.

As for the plows, a lot of the problem was they were stuck in the same traffic the rest of us were. Hard to plow when, y'know, your truck is idling on the on-ramp to the Mass Pike and gridlocked by cars.

Oh, and did I mention that I was almost snowed out of my house? Seriously. I had to battle teh evol snowdrifts just to get to my front door.

I'll be on the couch in front of the teevee, whining softly to myself.