I don’t know about you, but a major ice storm followed by seven inches of snow sounds like my kind of week.

The last week and a half have felt more like a month and half. It’s a sensation I can only claim I’ve experienced a few times.

The two days on, two days off pattern of school broke my education down into bite-size chunks I can swallow.

But that’s not why I loved last week.

Last week, at least for a few days, I left Bubbleland.

Don‘t get me wrong, Bubbleland is nice. The people of Bubbleland drive nice cars, buy the expensive peanut butter at Wal-Mart, have 2.5 kids, go to church–but not so much that they appear to be fanatics, and attend the right social events.

The people of Bubbleland lead a nice life.

I didn’t know I was going to leave. As the freezing rain started to fall I was still encased in Bubbleland. But when it was over I awoke to a place that was definitely not Bubbleland.

It was as if the ice had burst Bubbleland’s bubble.

People don’t lose power in Bubbleland. Street lights don’t go out during the middle of the night. Cars aren’t abandoned in ditches. Trees and power lines don’t litter the street in Bubbleland. Yet that was the reality I found myself in.

I saw many people I knew from Bubbleland. They were different. They didn’t seem to remember that they lived in Bubbleland. They didn’t remember the things that people talk about there. Maybe they had left Bubbleland too.

At first it was disorienting and distracting.

What do you do when people don’t behave like they’re in Bubbleland? But then it was refreshing. No one was focusing on the things of Bubbleland. Instead, it was the power lines in everyone’s yard that seemed the most important. Everyone was equal.

For a few days, who bought the most expensive peanut butter didn’t matter.

As fast as I escaped, Bubbleland has caught up. I see more and more of it again everyday. I’m sad it took an ice storm to escape from Bubbleland, but it was exhilarating while it lasted. I have to leave again.

Will you leave Bubbleland with me?