Sean B. Fitzgerald It doesn’t go something like this, it goes exactly like this.

SNOW!

If there is any indication of how boring life is, it's the local news outlets' reaction to an impending snow storm. Take for instance, this weekend for my area (the lower Hudson Valley and Northern New Jersey).

Pretty much since I woke up Monday morning there were whispers about some snow that was headed in our direction. The "system" (as they call it) was over Texas and the southern states at the time and was going to dump 19 feet of snow on us come the weekend. Now, if you live in the Northeast like I do, you get used to hyperbole in the weather forecasts, especially during the winter. Every weekend is going to be apocalyptic, according to them. Weathermen are about as accurate as a quarter, so listening to them is an exercise in futility.

What's noteworthy is the amount of airtime news outlets give snowstorms or potential blizzards. It's as if nothing else on the planet is occurring, at all. All murderers, rapists, crooked cops, or humans in general cease their activities to make way for the snow-maggeddon.

The other day I turned on the 5 0'clock news (which is a half hour show) to see how much snow we might get. For 29 minutes I was subjected to watching field reporters  knee-deep in snow across the tri-state area telling the world "It's snowing".

It's also great when a field reporter is stationed outside a Home Depot or supermarket before the storm hits. The place is mobbed with lemmings who are petrified that they might not have enough bread to last the weekend so they buy 18 loaves. And every one they interview just bought a shovel. As if they have lived in this area there entire life without a shovel. Apparently they just stayed inside all winter until the snow melted without having to shovel anything. My theory is that these people buy a shovel before every snowstorm, just in case.

Anyway, my area didn't get touched. Not one inch. Not even a flake. Not the best day for the shovel purchasers who must have thrown them in the pile with the other ones.

Can you tell I have Cabin Fever?