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So totally underwhelmed by the weather today. Went to Renton to pick up Niece and her sick child...at 6:45 am...IN THE SNOW.
Let me make this point clear. As previously mentioned in this journal, I hate snow. I hate it a lot. I hate it more than many other things that I hate, although I do not hate it as much as I hate George Bush (either of them.) HATE HATE HATE.
But on the other hand, while having a total brain cramp, I started recalling the history of my cars and my oh-so-tainted driving record, and this bit is funny. At least now. I no longer froth at the mouth when I see a cop.
I received my first car in 1998, an 89 Ford Tempo for the princely sum of "Free". Or what we like to technically call "a big argument with the woman at the licencing place." That car was totaled in 2000, when I HIT A COP.
Yes, my first accident ever (hadn't even ever had a speeding ticket, those were the glory days) and I hit A COP.
Naturally, he being a cop, I got a ticket. Me being an American, I sued the city - and won when the cop told the judge that he watched me speed up as I went down the street and the judge asked him what he was doing in the middle of the street, rather than moving.
Me - $1000. City of Seattle - Nil.
Did not actually give up car for a fair few months (I believe the accident was in November 1999, and I think I was still driving it in May of 2000.) so technically it wasn't totalled, but darn near. I should have held out for a totalling valuation of the damage, actually.
Anyway, back on track. It snowed. Drove around in snow. MANY MANY MILES. Because I am NICE. (Told you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smokedamage, I have a nice shiny personality.) Did not die or damage anything. Found out that car cannot handle the WORD "incline" if it has snow on it. Still did not die or damage anything. In the south end, the snow was not sticking to the roads, which was good as otherwise I would have had to stop at a Burger King and call Niece to request that she walk half a mile down the road as I could not do an incline with snow on. I could not walk to her, as getting dressed in the dark while half asleep leads, apparently, to inappropriate shoes.
Went home, alternated time between staring at phone, staring at computer, and staring at sewing machine. (Did I mention that I got a sewing machine? No, I didn't. I HAVE A SEWING MACHINE I AM THE HAPPIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD SO BITE ME.) Remarkable amounts of "nothing" were accomplished in all three places.
On the bright side, at least I cleaned the bathroom (if you don't look closely) and went to the store. Somehow, snow tells my brain "Buy meat." We compromised on ham, with the thought that I could make a ham and egg sandwich, at which my rational self fell about laughing.
Rest of apartment still looks as though a freak gust of wind dropped a small Afghanistani caravanserai in the middle of it, one that specialised in cloth. See, to find something to make "project a" with, involves taking out EVERY SINGLE length of fabric I own (including the stiffened crinoline material, which would so not go with a pirate coat, a pirate vest, a dressy vest OR a pair of harem pants (although that might turn into a button down tunic with a mandarin collar, as I haven't weighed the pros and cons of white-on-white vertical zigzags)) and throwing it into the middle of the floor, with a soupcon of pattern bits, scraps, and, somehow, god knows I don't know, my chinese-double-happiness mug that is supposed to be at work, but is not.
I expect FEMA to stop by at any moment.
In other news, I'm staying at the 'rents tonight and tomorrow because they have a new foster dog. This is the dog I call "Old Brown Eye." Yes, she has only one eye. She's friendly, skinny, smelly, and has NO grasp of ANY commands. Dinner was a trial for my father, forced to eat with only one hand. Also, like a mountain goat, she seeks altitude. A WHOLE LOT.
This, of course, means that I will be abandoning any pretence that I'm going to get either Jack or Shit done this weekend and it'll be nothing but net. And sewing. And maybe writing. And omg I don't want to be away from my apartment.
AND, worst of all, no nightly phone call. On the bright side, someone-who-shall-remain-nameless is taking the first step to moving to Seattle with the plan to go on to Evergreen (School motto, Omnia Extares. Stick that in your Latin translator and smoke it.).
It's merely the first step in getting my net-friends to move to a private island that I will turn into a big-game preserve and play "The Most Dangerous Game" on. *sharky grin*
And tomorrow, HG goes to stage three in the current plot. Fear it, oh ye rpers! Fear it!
Maybe I should have written a list of things to do this weekend on FRIDAY, not on Monday.
Now, do I go out to my car in the FREEZING FUCKING COLD and get my laundry, or do I do it tomorrow? Since, you know, it needs to be DONE, and I'm not going to be HOME to do it THERE.
Let me make this point clear. As previously mentioned in this journal, I hate snow. I hate it a lot. I hate it more than many other things that I hate, although I do not hate it as much as I hate George Bush (either of them.) HATE HATE HATE.
But on the other hand, while having a total brain cramp, I started recalling the history of my cars and my oh-so-tainted driving record, and this bit is funny. At least now. I no longer froth at the mouth when I see a cop.
I received my first car in 1998, an 89 Ford Tempo for the princely sum of "Free". Or what we like to technically call "a big argument with the woman at the licencing place." That car was totaled in 2000, when I HIT A COP.
Yes, my first accident ever (hadn't even ever had a speeding ticket, those were the glory days) and I hit A COP.
Naturally, he being a cop, I got a ticket. Me being an American, I sued the city - and won when the cop told the judge that he watched me speed up as I went down the street and the judge asked him what he was doing in the middle of the street, rather than moving.
Me - $1000. City of Seattle - Nil.
Did not actually give up car for a fair few months (I believe the accident was in November 1999, and I think I was still driving it in May of 2000.) so technically it wasn't totalled, but darn near. I should have held out for a totalling valuation of the damage, actually.
Anyway, back on track. It snowed. Drove around in snow. MANY MANY MILES. Because I am NICE. (Told you,
smokedamage, I have a nice shiny personality.) Did not die or damage anything. Found out that car cannot handle the WORD "incline" if it has snow on it. Still did not die or damage anything. In the south end, the snow was not sticking to the roads, which was good as otherwise I would have had to stop at a Burger King and call Niece to request that she walk half a mile down the road as I could not do an incline with snow on. I could not walk to her, as getting dressed in the dark while half asleep leads, apparently, to inappropriate shoes.Went home, alternated time between staring at phone, staring at computer, and staring at sewing machine. (Did I mention that I got a sewing machine? No, I didn't. I HAVE A SEWING MACHINE I AM THE HAPPIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD SO BITE ME.) Remarkable amounts of "nothing" were accomplished in all three places.
On the bright side, at least I cleaned the bathroom (if you don't look closely) and went to the store. Somehow, snow tells my brain "Buy meat." We compromised on ham, with the thought that I could make a ham and egg sandwich, at which my rational self fell about laughing.
Rest of apartment still looks as though a freak gust of wind dropped a small Afghanistani caravanserai in the middle of it, one that specialised in cloth. See, to find something to make "project a" with, involves taking out EVERY SINGLE length of fabric I own (including the stiffened crinoline material, which would so not go with a pirate coat, a pirate vest, a dressy vest OR a pair of harem pants (although that might turn into a button down tunic with a mandarin collar, as I haven't weighed the pros and cons of white-on-white vertical zigzags)) and throwing it into the middle of the floor, with a soupcon of pattern bits, scraps, and, somehow, god knows I don't know, my chinese-double-happiness mug that is supposed to be at work, but is not.
I expect FEMA to stop by at any moment.
In other news, I'm staying at the 'rents tonight and tomorrow because they have a new foster dog. This is the dog I call "Old Brown Eye." Yes, she has only one eye. She's friendly, skinny, smelly, and has NO grasp of ANY commands. Dinner was a trial for my father, forced to eat with only one hand. Also, like a mountain goat, she seeks altitude. A WHOLE LOT.
This, of course, means that I will be abandoning any pretence that I'm going to get either Jack or Shit done this weekend and it'll be nothing but net. And sewing. And maybe writing. And omg I don't want to be away from my apartment.
AND, worst of all, no nightly phone call. On the bright side, someone-who-shall-remain-nameless is taking the first step to moving to Seattle with the plan to go on to Evergreen (School motto, Omnia Extares. Stick that in your Latin translator and smoke it.).
It's merely the first step in getting my net-friends to move to a private island that I will turn into a big-game preserve and play "The Most Dangerous Game" on. *sharky grin*
And tomorrow, HG goes to stage three in the current plot. Fear it, oh ye rpers! Fear it!
Maybe I should have written a list of things to do this weekend on FRIDAY, not on Monday.
Now, do I go out to my car in the FREEZING FUCKING COLD and get my laundry, or do I do it tomorrow? Since, you know, it needs to be DONE, and I'm not going to be HOME to do it THERE.
