We are having the stupidest weather.
Freezing rain, snow, more rain, more snow.
This morning, it took me 45 minutes to drive 7 miles. It was slicker than snot on a doorknob. I spun my wheels at every intersection, and prayed that the rest of the people out there wouldn't be bozos and try to drive too fast, like the hit-and-run guy on Sunday night who plowed into our car. (And no, it wasn't the snowplough--he also totaled a jeep that was parked near us, before he sideswiped us trying to get away before anyone saw him. And no, we didn't catch him either. Dangit.)
Then, I sat for 3 1/2 hours watching American Idol and getting paid for it. I kid you not. At least it wasn't High School Musical again. (Substitute teaching can be so mentally stimulating.)
Dr. B drove with his boss out to Spring Green this morning, which is about an hour outside of town. Understandably, I was a ball of nerves until I got the voicemail saying he had made it OK, and the second saying he had made it back to town.
Then I had to go to Target and buy all that crap you have to have to not smell and have a clean house and stuff. And I had to pay for it. Even though it's payday, I still had a little panic attack. I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from PTSD.
I need to go grocery shopping, but my knee is sore because I slipped in some snow some kid had tracked in the other day at school, so I gave up and decided just to vent all this here and make you deal with my crabbiness. We'll have leftover rice and maybe a dried out turkey burger for supper. And it will be cruddy, but I don't care.
I really, really need my last prenatal yoga class this afternoon.
***Updated: on the way home from yoga, I wasn't relaxed. I just couldn't get there. My knee was still sore, and I couldn't let go during savasana (relaxation). I was still a bundle, albeit a smaller one, of nerves. Then I stopped to fill the tank at the gas station. As I was putting my debit card away, I heard a thunk!, looked up and saw a mini-van that had hit a parked car. She pulled away, and didn't even stop to check or leave her name.
I got her license #, car make, model and color, and a vague description of her. Called it in, and the police came. Got a nice thank you from the car owner. (She didn't do lots of damage, but still. It's just the point.)
I guess that's Karma.
We may never find out who did it to our car, but paying it forward really boosted my mood! Woo hoo!!!