IN PRINT: Editor’s Notebook, March 12, 2014

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The wind. The rain. The ice and the snow.

Anybody else had enough?

By the time this entry hits the streets, the final winterization of 2014 may be just a memory, but I’m in the thick of it as I’m writing this on Friday, holed up in my sister’s extra bedroom, typing away on a TV tray. Occasionally I can hear the sharp crack of a heavy bough, laden with new ice, snapping off a tall tree, hear it fwoosh its way to the ground, shattering as it goes. It’s still coming down at a pretty good clip, too, this wintry mix. Sounds like a bunch of Pop Rocks going off out there.

Believe me: I don’t want to be talking about the weather. That’s for mouth-breathers and hooples with nothing else to say. I want to talk about economic development, urban revitalization, a great sandwich I ate or something funny and poignant that one of my kids said.

But it’s impossible for me not to talk about the weather, because it’s really starting to affect my life.

I weathered the first burst of late-winter storms like a pro — these things happen, right? I drove from Winston-Salem to Greensboro with Jordan Green in mid-February during a full-on whiteout — it took like two hours — with nary a complaint.

My woodpile dwindled. I made do.

Last week, on Monday, I decided to leave the office in the thick of the snow — in hindsight probably a bad idea.

I made it almost all the way home. On the downslope of a rise on Yanceyville Street, my wheels slid out from under me. I turned into the skid, but still spun around and smashed into a concrete barrier.

I’m fine. My car looks like Truckasaurus got ahold of it. And Greensboro police Officer TK name??? MD Menshew was about a quarter-mile away when it happened and helped me out immediately.

I feel pretty lucky, even though the power’s out at home and my whole family is wedged into my sister’s place, where the lights have been flickering every hour or so.

Supposed to be 65 degrees or so tomorrow. How about that?