Things that make you go "@$#*!"

[Alternate titles: "The Week of my Blondness," or "Happy Valentine's Day to me!"]

As I mentioned a couple posts down, we had a bit of a blizzard last week. (A questionable "blizzard" by historical standards, but enough to cause a big mess.) Since I was of the minority whose job does not stop for blowing and drifting snow, I had to go to work on Tuesday and Wednesday during the worst of it. No big deal -- I'm used to that.

At my apartment complex ("Senior Towers" as my friend and neighbor Tim calls it), I don't have a parking spot. Tim shares a two-car garage with another tenant who was gone for a couple days, so he offered to let me park in her spot in the garage Tuesday night. I gladly took him up on his offer.

Later Tuesday night, I was baking chocolate chip cookies for my Valentine and set off the smoke detector in my apartment. (Gotta remember to set that time!) I should have taken it as an omen...

Wednesday morning, I trudged through the snow and gratefully hopped into my snow-free car, and carefully backed out of the garage. That's when everything went terribly wrong (cue horror-film music)... My back tires got stuck in a drift in the alley, and (in the process of un-sticking them), I somehow jerked the wheel or hit the gas, or... really, I don't know. All I know is I heard a terrible crunch and a ripping sound... and I got out of my car and saw this:














(Well, the duct tape was a later addition, but you get the idea.)

I have never been the driver in an accident before and I wasn't really sure what to do, so I called Shane and told him I "banged the hell out of my pretty car." (And cried, because I'm a girl and it's allowed.)

I think the edge of the bumper (down by the tire) got caught on the metal track of the garage door and just RIPPED my bumper, but I'm still not sure how the giant dent got there. The garage, miraculously, was barely scratched. Gotta pay my $500 deductible, and won't have my car back until Friday. Ouch. In a way, I'm glad my first "crash" was in the garage and not on the roads, because it could have been much worse... but how embarrassing, even if it was the snow's fault.

Anyway -- I can't believe anyone just sat through that drawn-out story, but thanks for listening if you did.

The good news is that life moves along, even when your car is in the shop. Shane and I decided that I would move into his house at the end of next month (so soon!) so I can save some rent money, which is especially important now that I'm crashing into things. He's going to live at his parents until we get married in September, because we're good Catholic kids like that, and his parents' basement is bigger and nicer than my entire apartment.

Two weekends ago (as my two readers may already know), we painted two rooms in the house. A lovely tan with crisp white trim. Not our first choice, but we're trying to go neutral because we don't expect to be there long and don't want to repaint before we sell. The lovely tan replaced dingy gray with dingy gray trim in one room, and bright blue (like the Internet Explorer bar) and dingy gray trim in the second. Ahh... at last, I have peace and pretty walls!

Last weekend, my mom and I cleaned out my childhood closet. It was a big closet. With many, many boxes inside. I'm not going to lie, Mom and I got a little sappy a couple times. :) About 3/4 of the boxes got cleaned out, and the rest are in Shane's basement, waiting for me to go through them. Many giant bags of trash went out... papers to recycle... out-of-fashion clothes to be donated. It's a good feeling to get it done! I think I'm finally overcoming the packrat tendencies that I inherited from both my parents and that Shane completely lacks. (I like to think we balance each other out, in many ways.)

I may have mentioned before that I'm a packrat, but REALLY, you have no idea. I mean, NO. IDEA. I saved almost every letter, every scrap of paper anyone ever passed to me in class since elementary school... school projects... toys... drawings... books... magazines... photos, oh God, the photos... and random, random stuff. In one box from elementary school, I found an eraser shaped like a cow. Its head had broken off, and years ago, I had lovingly taped the cow's head back on, wrapped a gold ribbon around its neck, folded it up in a paper towel, and tucked it in a little box. WHY, I ask you?!! The mind reels. (I threw the cow away.)