(…or whatever wannabe-meteorologists are calling it by the time you finish reading this)

There’s a special moment every winter when the forecast stops being a forecast and turns into theater. You know it’s here when the meteorologist leans toward the camera with a solemn expression usually reserved for tax audits and whispers those fateful words: “Significant accumulation.”

From there, the local ritual begins.

Fareway sells out of bread like the entire town suddenly decided to open competing toast restaurants. The Dollar Fresh parking lot becomes a live-action stress test for humanity. And on Facebook, half of Geneseo is calmly sharing radar images while the other half is calling it “The Big One” and asking if anyone remembers 2011.

Someone will insist the storm always “falls apart anyway.” Someone else will say this is “nothing compared to the Blizzard of ’79,” whether or not they were actually alive then. And there’s always that one relentlessly cheerful local who chirps, “At least downtown will look pretty!” while the rest of us are calculating how many inches of snow it takes before we give up on shoveling and consider moving to Arizona.

To be fair to the forecasters, Midwest snowfall is an emotional creature. One minute it’s heading straight for Henry County; the next, it jogs north to bother Davenport or decides to dump everything on Atkinson for no reason whatsoever. Predicting it is less science and more roulette.

Still—jokes aside—we all share the same hope: that everyone in Geneseo gets through the storm safely. Whether this turns into a blizzard, a light dusting, or one of those famous “hyped for three days and melted by noon” specials, we’re better off prepping than panicking.

So yes, have a laugh, grab the hot chocolate, and prepare for another episode of As the Snowstorm Turns. But also check on your neighbors, avoid driving like you’re auditioning for Fast & Furious: Route 82 Drift, and make sure your phone’s charged.

Because no matter what actually falls from the sky, the only thing that matters is that Geneseo gets through the Great Snowmagedde-geddon-palooza of 2025 together—in one piece, warm, safe, and maybe just a little smug that we handled it better than those big cities.