As I’m about to leave for work, dreading the blustery winter morning ahead of me, I get a text from my boss asking me to wait an hour before turning up.  It’s a Pro-D day, so there’s no actual classes.  The day was to be spent organizing and preparing for tonight’s Christmas concert.  I’m never one to be late, but this is a rather irresistible invitation. The wind has sharp teeth, and the roads look slick and glassy. There is so much white, insistent and imposing, the world a snow-globe shook by an angry and energetic child.  Eventually another text follows, calling the whole morning off. As prepared as I was to brave the weather conditions and have a productive work day, something about not having to leave the house made me feel like a middle-aged divorcee on her fourth banana daiquiri at her first Mexican vacation.  Pretty bloody giddy. …