SNOMG

Hello, internet world! This is Julia reporting to you live from (what was) South Hadley on the incoming Snowpocalypse that will freeze us alive in a massive iceberg. A million years from now, archeologists will discover us staring blankly into our screens and will be deeply impressed by our Pocket Planes. Models will be frozen mid-stride on the runway (it's NYFW) and Leandra Medine will be preserved Instagramming said models.

Well, Moho is smack in the middle of the "ZOMG ITS THE END OF THE WORLD" zone for Señor Nemo so this may be the last time you hear from me. But I'm okay, Mom. Don't freak out. Speaking of parents, I have a vivid memory of Dad throwing a snowball at my face when I was a wee child. I just schlumped over in my snowman suit and cried. (Thanks, Dad)

In other news, the college is closed tomorrow which I found out via Facebook, by the way. Are we not important enough to even get a decent email, Mount Holyoke? Wait just kidding, there was an email. It just didn't have a very demanding subject line so it was left unattended with 300 other emails (362, to be exact). In plain English: There is nothing to do for three days and I will be stranded in my nest of yarn and comfort. I'll probably end up online shopping for the entire 72 hours.

Au revoir, mes amies! Stay warm and don't get out of bed unless, well, there really is no good reason to get out of bed.