I have a 20-minute commute - it's beautiful. It's seven miles (three of which are through a gorgeous National Historical Park). Today, it started snowing. Now, I generally think two things when it begins snowing: 1) ah, isn't that nice, and 2) EARLY DISMISSAL! (See, I am still a child.)
Around 3 p.m. at work today I started inching up to co-workers' desks, whispering "Are you leaving early?" and saying, "Well, I was thinking of leaving early. I think you should leave early, too." I am an instigator. Then, I fret loudly about my "little Corolla" with the "worn tires" and how it's even slippery "in the rain" (all of which are true, but I really milk it).
So today I rounded up some other co-workers who decided to leave early (this is ESSENTIAL) if you are to leave work early on good terms - you must not be the lone abandon-er. So after egging on my fellow deserters, I left around 3:50 p.m.
I got home at 6:15 p.m. (I put that in bold type because I figure bold is more frightening.) Friggin' 6:15!! I left before 4!!
It was a pathetic display of my car's weaknesses (or, perhaps more accurately, my driving ineptitude: I slid into snow banks, my wheels spun whenever I had to pump the gas). It was also a stunning display of my own weak will. I cried. I know, pathetic, right?: YES, I cried in my car out of crazy exasperation.
You see, I tried to go home my normal route. I sat for 45 minutes then turned around (in a snow bank, but whatever) and called Matt - who was smartly still at work - and demanded an alternative route. He gave me one (poor thing is probably scared of me). Again, I sat for 45 minutes and then turned around (zigzagging down a hill as the motorists on the other side of the road looked in horror - I swear, I saw one woman drop her cigarette in sheer terror as she rolled up her window, preparing for a collision). There I was: mascara-streaking down my face, cursing the weather gods, and zigzagging in my little Corolla down a steep hill. I was terrifying. If I was a model type wearing a fabulous black dress, I would of certainly looked like the woman in the photo above.
Then the NPR traffic guy came on, and had the AUDACITY to say, "Well, folks, I don't know where to begin - there are too many accidents to mention and traffic is backed-up everywhere." I think he may have also chuckled. I still hate him.
Finally I got on the highway, and although I maintained a steady 2 mph, I got home. Of course, I had to call two co-workers and make them aware of my plight (poor me, woe is me, and all of that). Like I told you, I really like to milk it.