Anatomy of a Bad Day.

Okay, it isn’t technically a “day”: it is the last 24 hours. It started last night at pub quiz. We didn’t win. I knew nothing… well, except that Chile was the South American country that extended the farthest south. Other than that, I felt pretty stupid. The whole team seemed somewhat deflated. As we were leaving, Jarren mentioned driving his car off the Hood River Bridge. I sure hope he didn’t. I should check around about that tomorrow.

Anyway, as I drove home, I ran into a snow flurry, but it is that time of year in Oregon, and I live at a moderately high altitude, so I wasn’t surprised. And it wasn’t sticking, so no big deal. Got home, greeted the pets (always a major production), grabbed a bite and talked with Richard for a while, and after the obligatory dog & cat treats, went to bed.

At 5AM, as is prescribed by the gods, I awoke and jumped out of bed, totally invigorated and ready to face a new day. I was chipper and knew that this would be the day that I finally got that big promotion.

At 5:15AM, I awoke from the dream and drug my fat ass out of bed by my fingernails. I was so glad to see the total darkness of the new day. Staggering into the kitchen, I searched for what seemed like hours for the coffee maker. Damn that Richard, every night he moves it to a new location. I finally get it all together and get the coffee brewing and decide to go look out the front door.

“OH MY [expletive deleted] GOD! THERE IS 8 [expletive deleted] INCHES OUT THERE. HOW THE [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]AM I SUPPOSE TO… OH MY [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted].

I thought I screamed loud enough to wake the dead, but no animal in this house woke up.

At 5:30AM, I bundle my big-boned body up and trundle outside to see what it is really like. I shovel to the cars, or the mounds of snow that I recognized as potential car prints, and then on to the base of the driveway. Right then and there, my driveway grew to a mile long and the snow became 4’ deep. Pretty much freaked me out, so I took a break.

Called work. It didn’t snow in Hood River. I ain’t getting no sympathy. Tell ‘em I’ll be late, but I’m digging out. Richard needs his car, so I need to get my pick-up out. Means scraping the driveway down to bare pavement. No easy task. But I am done by 8AM. I am pretty sure that is a personal best! Okay, the berm

“A berm is a level space, shelf, a raised barrier separating two areas or a cursory phrase used by some residents of the Upper Hood River Valley in reference to the mountain of crap left at the end of their driveway by the State of Oregon snowplows.”

wasn’t perfect, but Richard’s car got out beautifully. So, I showered and all that jazz and took off for work in my sweet little pick-up. I know I’ll make it out of the driveway as long as I don’t have to stop in the berm. I get to the end of the drive and [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] there are forty cars coming down the highway. I have to stop in the [expletive deleted] berm. After what seemed an eternity, I finally wriggled my way out of the driveway onto the highway of glare ice. I recall saying, “Oh my [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted], this is not good”, as I crawled along at speeds nearing 30.

About half way through the “s” curves just north of my house, I caught up with the pack of cars. I was stunned that they were going so slow that I actually caught up with them. I tapped on my brakes. (I live in snow country, I know about tapping breaks.) The [expletive deleted]pick-up started to fishtail.

You know, it is amazing what you think about as your take that first spin. You curse, you scream, you speak poorly about your relations. But by the second spin, you’re starting to think more rationally. You’re wondering why you were never able to articulate your morbid fear of dying in a car accident, or why a bucking pick-up could make you fear ditches.

But by the third spin, you’re noticing things that you otherwise would have missed. Like, “My gracious, isn’t that Joanie and Tim in that car that is coming at me head on? Wow, I haven’t seen them in ages. I sure hope they survive this.”

And by Willow Flat, you finally regain some semblance of control of your cute little pick-up.

And then you go to work.

At the Inn of the Damned!