Last night I ventured out into the slush and onto the T, downtown, where I have a weekly thing. I picked my way over mounds of ice and around tidepools of ice water of indeterminate depth. After I got out of the T station, the wind pushed me around on the icy sidewalk, and then I stepped in a 6-inch-deep lake of slush. Then I got to my thing, only to find out it had been canceled. Fuuuuuck. Either I'm losing my mind and I just forgot it was canceled or no one called to tell me. Thoughts of either, but particularly the latter, pissed me off. So much.
I dried out my shoe, fired off an angry/pathetic text message, and then headed back, packing myself into a train, extricating myself, and then squishing myself into another train. Walked back out into the cold wind, picked my way around the ice floes again. I got to my car, and decided to be responsible and clean it off before the snow froze into a solid mass. I tried opening the car door, so I could get the scraper, but it had frozen shut. My hand slipped from the handle, which caught and ripped off one of my fingernails. I cursed. And cursed more. Then I chopped the damn ice off the hood and windshield. And cursed some more.
Winter: 5 bazillion. Vieve: 0.
Posted by thevieve at February 15, 2007 1:45 PM