Last night Michelle asked if I’d like to join her and some friends for drinks after work, and I said yes because I’m not one to turn down a glass of chard on a Friday night. The only caveat was that I was hesitant to drive because we got a few inches of snow yesterday morning and I have not had the best luck with snowy roads this winter.
The short explanation is that a few weeks ago, it started snowing as I was getting ready to leave for work. Because I apparently operate like the US postal service and neither rain nor snow nor dark of night will keep me from my duties, I decided to brave my four mile commute anyway.
I ended up sliding most of the way, and when I was just a few blocks from my office I got stuck at the bottom of a hill and had to abandon ship and walk the rest of the way to work. Uphill. In the snow. In patent leather high heels because I still have not learned to wear boots on snowy days.
There may or may not have been tears involved.
I’m still recovering from the whole experience, and when yesterday’s snow threatened the morning commute, I called about six people to get their takes on the road conditions and polling them about whether (or should I say, weather) or not I should drive to work.
Spoiler alert. I drove and everything was totally fine.
Long story not short at all, Michelle was game to drive last night. She piloted us with confidence and didn’t even flinch when her anti-lock brakes slid us through an intersection or when a deer darted into our path on the highway.
This morning I woke up at the crack of 9:00 ready to take on the day. However, a check of the weather reflected that it was in the single digits outside. So I showered and then promptly got right back into my pajamas and set up shop on the sofa and spent the next I’m-embarrassed-to-admit-how-many hours reading and eating and watching eight episodes of The Pioneer Woman.
Around 3:00 Matt called and asked if I’d like to go out to dinner and I said yes because I’m no fool. And then he said, “Ok, I’m leaving now.”
I knew that there was no way I could change my clothes, put on makeup, fix my hair, and clean up the blankets/books/pillows/snack setup I had going on in the living room in the fifteen minutes it would take Matt to get to my apartment. So instead I sent him a message that said, “Ok, but don’t judge me when you get here,” and hoped for the best.
I pulled myself together and we had a great dinner and then a romantic date to Lowe’s where we spent serious time in the lumber department because Matt has some grand plans to make himself an Adirondack chair.
And now it’s time for my pink leopard broom and I to go sleep. Yes, I’ve started taking my broom into my room at night, not to ward off any would-be intruders but rather because the people who have recently moved into the apartment above us are apparently also housing an elephant or nine. Additionally, all evidence points to them being nocturnal, because they don’t make a sound all day long and then suddenly between the hours of midnight and 6 a.m. they vacuum (OH, THE VACUUMING), play musical instruments (I’ve heard a clarinet and a drum set), drop bowling balls onto the floor repeatedly, scream, cry, run, and jump.
I have been awoken from a deep sleep many a night to one or more of the above sounds. And when that happens I hit the ceiling with my pink leopard broom and even though it doesn’t seem to do much good as far as noise goes, it makes me feel like a very big deal.
Maybe I should bring it along in my car the next time it snows.