seaslug

Driven

As we all know, winter and the holiday Christmas season combine like the ultimate WWE tag team champions to kick the living stuffing out of us every year at this time.

When this happens I go into full nesting mode, withdrawing into the depths of my little apartment, and out of everyone's ken. Being, already, a creature of routine, I start hella-routines such as eating the same things every day. For instance, this week it's Crispix cereal in the morning, sushi for lunch, and a Subway sandwich for supper (I don't know. Don't ask.). I don't even have to venture out to Christmas shop for anyone this year. As all the other crazy people on my flist likely already know, this behavior is way unhealthy.

A light snow storm rolled through overnight and into this morning and deposited seven inches of white death. I had to drive to work in it. Even though it was snowing hard enough to make the plow drivers earn their keep, and even though I own a Ford Thunderbird with rear wheel drive, I wasn't particularly dreading the commute. That's a far cry from five years ago when I first moved to this limbo. This anthracite gulag. This long dark tea-time of the soul. Before moving here I had little experience with snow, having spent one winter on the Virgina coast and another in Philadelphia. I was quaking in my britches that first winter. Now, though, I'm used to it and am able to deal.

The fallen snow this morning was light and powdery. The wind had blown a big drift over and around my car and there was ice under all. I had to do a bit of digging and flooring of gas pedals to get the car into the road. Once rolling, however, things went smoothly. I managed to avoid any traffic lights on hills, didn't encounter idiot drivers, and made it to work barely later than usual. I felt a minor sense of accomplishment.

Tomorrow a greater problem looms. I either do laundry or buy more clothes. I hate the laundromat so much that it wouldn't be the first time, or the second, that I've chosen the latter over the former. It's clear, though, that heaving myself into these little challenges is counteracting the urge to lurk like a great big holiday trap-door spider. So, the rest of you skulking about like I'm doing had best get out into the open. If you're fortunate enough to cohabitate with actual people then brow-beat them into forcing you out of your lair. You'll feel better for it.
  • Current Mood: I saw wild turkeys
Anthracite Gulag. Yeah, that's my place.

Given your commute, I'm impressed with your bad-weather driving skills. Out here, half the people start freaking out at the first droplet of rain. Which is not entirely stupid, since the first few minutes of rain float all the road oil to the surface, which becomes ungodly slick. But truly, you needn't slow to 15mph because three drops fell.

The other half of the people do not freak even when it's pouring. They continue to drive at a cool 85 mph as they whip from lane to lane.

When the two types of people are in the same car, hilarity ensues. When they're in different cars on the same road, the incongruity ceases to be hilarious.
It's the truck drivers that make me nuts. In the snow they still speed and if they don't run you off the road then they blind you with gouts of dirty slush and falling chunks of ice off the tops of their trailers. In nice weather they drive slowly in the passing lane.
Note 1: "hella-routines"
Note 2: "i saw wild turkeys" not is really a moods
NO! And you can't MAKE me come out of my cozy little enclave without friends or reasons to venture out. Not even the two people and the DOG (yes that dog) that I love with can make me do it. In fact, if I could just hibernate for 3 months of the year, I would.
Yeah that snow was death. 7 shades of grey suck.

But it was perdy, so it's all good. :D