How to Have a Storm Day When the Weather's Always Perfect

You know that feeling, the one you get when you wake up in the dusky light of a winter morning, to see that snow has fallen - snow on snow - and continues to fall, and you shuffle over to the kettle in your jammies and slippers, fill a mug with tea, and flip the radio on to see what schools are closed for the day, and if the highways are shut down, and when you discover that they are, you know that a day full of reading, playing quiet games, and eating comfort foods awaits, as you are absolved of all responsibility to go out and be a Productive Member of our Busy Society? Or is that just me? Does anybody else get a bit excited when the power goes out (giant ice storms notwithstanding)?

Here in Arequipa, where every single day is sunny and sees a high of 25 (C) and a low of 8 (C), storm days are unlikely to happen. Fortunately, we have something called a paro, which is like a strike only done by bus and taxi drivers (parar is to stop). Traffic mostly stops, especially into and out of the centre of town, thanks to protesting drivers who lob bricks and rocks at those breaking the paro, as well as makeshift road blocks of broken glass and nails. There is almost no traffic in our street today, my Spanish teacher has cancelled our lesson for the afternoon, and Joffre was the only kid in his class at school today; they told us to just have him stay home tomorrow if the paro continues.

Oh, they say it's to protest the recent increase in gas tax, as well as the tariffs or "tributes" that they must pay to the municipal government, but when my Peruvian friend called me today and knowingly said, "so, taking it easy, having a quiet day at home today?", it gave the game away. I know Storm Day Envy when I see it.