Mia Culpa
Yes, it's true. As dan put it in his last post, i did say in the public setting of his parent's kitchen that he only talks about the weather in the blog. I didn't mean it to be offensive, but like most things i say in public, i didn't actually think about it before i opened my mouth. I didn't mean to say that talking about the weather is bad per-say; i just meant that our lives are so uber booring and lacking of real and exciting events... oh, no, wait, i'm doing it again.
What i meant to say was that Dan loves the weather, and talking about it and thinking about it makes him happy, whereas i love the weather when it's warm and sunny, and resent it when it's snowey and wet and in my shoes. In the winter i think of the weather as targeting me personally. Like, i'll start out stressed and upset because i have to go to work and work never gives me enough time to be at the gym for as long as i like which is like five hours, so i'll be leaving the house carrying my gym clothes and my work clothes and a bag with my hair brush and face products and anouther bag with my lunch and also my sneakers and also my purse which is the size of Asia, and i already feel burdened by my worldly responsiblities, and then i step outside and instantly my feet are all wet and my hands are frozen. I suspect that it's NewEngland weather purposefully trying to push me over the edge.
Contributing to the problem is the fact that I don't have any good boots nor mittens, and i refuse to buy them myself because winter boots and thick mittens are pieces of clothing that are not cute looking yet manage to still cost money. I think that's unfair.
So Dan, i officially appologize for saying that you only talk about the weather. I only talk about being stressed out. Stressed out about my eyes and about our house and about the wedding and about my job, but always it's stressed out. And that can't make for very interesting posts on my part. So we're even.
my patience is stretched thin
I know I went on about driving slow and all, but there comes a point where enough is enough. I reached that point this morning. School was delayed two hours because of the suprise blizzard that froze Leah's feet and hands in such an unpleasant fashion, so when I left the house at 9:15 I a) thought I was leaving on the early side and b) expected there not to be any traffic. Everybody else had to do their commute at the regular time, right? Apparently not.
Instead, everyone in the greater Boston area was trying to get from Rt. 2 west on to 128 south, and doing so in the most selfish and inconsiderate ways imaginable. For a mile and a quarter before the interchange the right lane, which I got in as soon as I saw the backup, was stop and go--mostly stop, in fact. The reason for the delay was simple: hundreds of people, seeing the stopped cars, decided that they were the most important individuals on the planet and tried to get round the traffic jam, driving in the breakdown lane and cutting at the front of the line, or driving in the left lanes and cutting in the front of the lane. I was grinding my teeth with impotent rage. The worst part of it was, there wasn't even any backup on 128. The sole cause of the traffic problems were people being complete, pathetic jerks. Grr. It took me almost 20 minutes to go that mile and a quarter. I should have walked.
And then, when I got to school there was a phone company truck or something doing line work right where I wanted to drive my car, so just when I thought I had finally made it (and just barely on time, too) I had to make a considerable detour on streets I wasn't exactly sure would get me where I was going. What a wreck. The kids were a positive joy after all that.