So, uh, About that Ice-Storm

So, about that ice-storm. Not much to say other than: Now is the time on Captain Monkeypants when she eats her words.

We had an ice-storm last night. Actually, it began yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, none of us in the office could tell because it merely looked foggy and damp outside. I discovered it was actually freezing drizzle as soon as I headed out to my car and almost went flying. Not fun. The annoying thing about freezing rain and drizzle, as I've mentioned, is that it's pretty. It really does turn everything into a glass-encased landscape in which everything has been preserved.

The only problem is that it's a nightmare to walk on and scary to drive on. That is, of course, if you can even get your car defrosted enough to drive. Freezing rain does not mean a thin little layer of frost on a car as is common on cold mornings. Instead, it is a layer of 1/4 inch ice that literally has to be chiseled through with an ice-scraper to get to the car window below. It took me ten minutes to scrape my car last night when I got out of work. Since the storm had recently begun, the roads were very slippery and no matter how slow you went, it was hard not to fishtail when going through intersections.

This morning wasn't so bad. I warmed my car up which allowed the ice to gently melt from beneath. This meant when I scraped, it broke off in wet sheets and allowed me to clear off my windows fairly easily. The city had put salt on the roads, it was just the parking lots which were like ice rinks.

And, by the way, I did not see my stray hitchiker skating in the parking lot. I was disappointed.

So far, the office is quiet. Most people have kids here being that it's the Midwest and the traditional lifestyle is to marry fairly young and settle down. Their kids have school delays and thus their parent's can't come to work until their kids are safely deposited on the bus or in school. There are a few of us here, clustered in our cubicles, waiting for the morning buzz to begin. Outside, the daylight is starting to creep in, revealing the polished glow of an ice-coated world. Inside, I drink my slightly-vile coffee and hope that we get the snow that's forecast, rather than the ice that threatens.

Though I wouldn't say it was the Dooming Event that my coworkers predicted yesterday, it is definitely a wake-up call that winter isn't always about fluffy snowfalls and hot chocolate. Like every part of nature, Winter has a sharp, shadowed edge that can surprise you with its danger, rather like hippos and platypi.

(Side note: Did you know that hippos are vicious and deadly? I always thought they were cute, dopey things a bit like cows but I watched this special on Animal Planet and wow, hippos are vicious. Also, platypi (plural of platypus, I think) are venomous. I didn't know that. I always thought of platypi as fun, cute, playful things. Not so much)

Anyway, my point is that Winter woke me up yesterday. She reminded me that she has many skills and colours and that she doesn't like to be too predictable. I forgot that and now the crystalized world outside my door has reminded me that not all things that are beautiful are safe.

As a bit of a control freak, I need reminders once in a while that things aren't always under my control. Nature's good at reminding me of that. Next time the weather warns of a Storm Watch, I won't mock until enough time has passed that I know we're safe. In the meantime, I'll drive more slowly, walk more tentatively and respect Nature a little more.

Happy Wednesday.

Captain Monkeypants and the Art of the Calamity

I'm very sleepy this morning. It was one of those mornings where I debated staying in bed for another half-hour and going in late, making up the time this evening. Yet I got up anyway. I never get much benefit out of lying in bed for another half-hour unless I'm actually sleeping. Mostly, it's spent hiding my head under the covers and thinking about how much I don't want to get up which leads me to constantly check the clock to see how much time I have left rather than actually sleeping. If I actually do get up, it's just easier.

It's freezing out this morning. The snow patches are still clustered in the shadows and my car was iced-over. I'm too lazy to scrape: I've taken to starting my car ten minutes before I want to leave. It's SO much easier and, I find, actually safer because even when you scrape, you never clear your windows completely. I saw a girl driving an identical car to mine this morning but she'd only managed to scrape a little hole on her windshield. She practically had her nose against the glass, trying to see out. The rest of her car was so frozen that there was no way she could see out of her windows. This is why I start my car early. Also, having just got my car fixed from my last accident, I do not want another one, thank you very much.

So, now I'm at work. It's quiet in the office. I'm sipping vile coffee again because I cannot get my act together enough to make a pot at home. I'm really only capable in the mornings of getting ready for work, starting my car early and then a maximum of one non-routine task. Often, it involves putting things in my crockpot to cook for dinner. I do the preparation for this the night before. Other times, if I'm REALLY ambitious, it involves making toast. I adore toast. It's a joy in my life. I do not, however, really enjoy my toaster. It was one of those $7 deals from Walmart. It's a two-slot toaster but it's not deep enough to toast the very top of the bread so by the time it pops up, the top of the bread is still soft and untoasted while the rest is fine. Also, it does not have one of those nifty buttons to hit to make the toast pop up on your command. You have to turn the dial to the lowest setting and then it pops up. This is great except I like my toast dark and I inevitably forget I turned the dial to low until my toast pops up and it's still white. I need a new toaster.

This morning, I decided to try my new bread maker. It was actually my parent's but it's new to me. There was no instruction book. My mother provided instructions on how to put the ingredients in which was very helpful. There's a lot of buttons though. I like hitting buttons. I think I might have set the timer right on it since it was counting down as I left the apartment. If all goes well, I should be greeted with the scent of fresh baked, yeasty bread when I get home from work. Either that or it's The Breadmaker of Doom and is counting down for more ominous reasons. I prefer to think positively, however.

Aside from adoring fresh bread, I decided it might be a good idea to introduce a new smell to my apartment other than rather-cheap-wine-covered-up-by-Christmas-candle. You see, last night, I had a rather large accident. I have this wine rack that is very pretty but the bottles aren't terribly secure. They sit on a rather thin ledge and are easily dislodged. I bumped the rack last night causing the top layer of bottles to fall onto the ones below. You wouldn't think this had much effect but I am Captain Monkeypants, Mistress of the Calamity. No, this top level bottle shattered the bottle beneath which lead to a nasty mess. I try to keep my good wine on the top rack, the Two Buck Chuck on the bottom. I should probably explain that the difference between the Two Buck Chuck and the Top Level wine is about $3. I like good wine. If I had a nice fat income, I'd probably splurge. However, for now, Sutter Home is my friend. Not that it isn't good wine. It's just not good wine, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, so, I stood there, taking in the sudden and unexpected calamity, I realized I had to Act Now or Forever Lose The Newness of my Carpet. So I flew into action, sopping up the worst of the spill and reading on the internet the best way to remove wine stains. Did you know everyone says white wine works as a stain lifter? I did not. I also prefer red wine and so I lacked white wine. Also, I would have felt rather cross if I'd hate to waste more wine like that. So I ran to the store, purchased some Oxy Deep Cleaner and went back to work on the carpet. Fortunately, I managed to remove the stain, I think. The carpet looked ok in the pretty lights of my Christmas tree and my not-so-bright lamp. I'm hoping that in the light of day, it'll look fine too.

So, by the time my scrubbing was done, my apartment smelled a bit more like Oxy Clean and a little less like Two Buck Chuck. I lit my Glade Gingerbread candle. It seemed to help except somehow the smells seemed to combine and now my flat smells like a Christmas pudding. For all you non-Brits, a Christmas pudding is a very dark, raisin-y, rum-my, fruity concoction that is steamed and served with brandy butter. I just like the brandy butter, truth be told. Though when I was little, the tradition was to hide money in the Christmas pudding for the children so that when you'd get your piece, you'd find a nice 5 pence piece, usually when you'd bite into the pudding. Yes, that was back before people were quite so germaphobic. Which was probably not a good thing, now that I think about it. I didn't realize that my parents were the one putting the money into the pudding until I was quite old. Yes, I really thought it came that way, ok?

Anyway, once more, I digress. Back to my point: Fresh Bread. I'm hoping that the bread maker works and that I have nice crusty bread waiting for me and that my apartment smells just like fresh bread rather than Christmas pudding flavoured bread because that would be a bit vile. I'll keep you posted on that.

So, the moral of this story is really Don't Spill Wine on the Carpet. It is a bad thing. However, if you do, may I recommend Oxy Clean and Glade Candles to alleviate the disaster a little. As long as you don't mind the smell of Christmas pudding. Also, as an added side bonus, Sutter Home crushes Two Buck Chuck. Literally.

Happy Wednesday