Adventures in the arctic tundra
You would think that, with all the masturbation I do, my wrists would be in better shape for cleaning up my car. But nooo, I’m sore and think I’ve got the early onset of frostbite (or, if not frostbite, then a burning desire to kick Mother Nature’s frigid ass).
I couldn’t get into my car today. The driver’s side was frozen shut. I crawled over the mounds of snow to get to the passenger side, only to find that somebody parked right up against me. Really, is this necessary? (And don’t think I didn’t take great pleasure when the end of my ice scraper kept whacking the other car — it was that close!) I started to crawl in through the trunk, but then I realized I had a second, smaller ice scraper back there (the big one was of course in the car, along with my de-icing shit that isn’t worth a damn anyway). So I managed to pry the door open with said tiny ice scraper. Woo hoo! So I cranked up the radio and blasted Joni Mitchell for all the neighbors to enjoy. 🙂
You can tell that nobody here must have to go to work — cars have been sitting here since Sunday night and have a veritable shitload of snow on them. But I can’t blame these people — the ice was ridiculously difficult to budge this morning, more so than yesterday (it made a gorgeous crystal mosaic when I cracked it yesterday). Today, the ice was just being a bitch. Like me.
I really don’t even have to go into the office for more than a half-hour today, but I signed Angie and me up for a press thing at the International Spy Museum. My hope is that lunch, catered by Zola’s, will be Atkins-friendly. 🙂 Failing that, then I hope my car doors don’t freeze shut again during the event!