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.”
RED. ALERT.
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.
Couldn't hurt.
