Yesterday I asked for advice, today I must figure it out alone. Really, it isn't because you weren't quick enough with your thoughts and wisdom, it's about the cold. This morning was the coldest morning of the season yet. The ice was thick on the windshield. I warmed the engine up 10 minutes before leaving but of course the windshield was still covered in ice. The heater and defrost went the way of long dead soldiers, so I scraped. I get behind the wheel and as I exhale, each breath fills the windshield with a cloud of steam that freezes on contact. I drive anyway. The morning sunlight shatters across the ice covered view, is this what enlightenment looks like? The resurrection seems far from inevitable at this point.
Stop at the bank, drive through teller, two days forgotten deposit.
How are you? the Teller asks
Cold, no heat.
The doe eyed young teller tells me she thinks my dog looks OK, even if it is cold.
Oh right, this has nothing to do with me.
I remembered to check with her on car loan rates, I have an appointment with the dealer tomorrow. I must be armed with defensive tactics and alternative interest rate information, the bastards.
Here's the "Christine" part of my tedious mundane story;
My car heard me tell the banker he was headed for the scrap heap. At this admission, he simply gave up any appearance of caring for me or his life. I retrieved my deposit slip and put it in my purse. I hit the up button on the drivers side window, to no avail. The window motor squealed and hissed and said something about me freezing in hell.
Did I mention the fact that it is 28 degrees outside?
Tomorrow, the heat in that new metallic blue Caliber is going to feel really really good. Take that you rusty old pop can, take it to your cold grave.