The Ice Storm (?) And My Hammer Elbow

Yesterday, Dallas was recouperating after our "alleged" ice storm that took way too long to arrive and appeared to be quite uneventful, IMHO. The meteorologists were "ate up" about it for days. No kidding, if I could've reached through the television screen and radio faceplate to strangle their scrawny screen (and speaker)-hogging necks, I wouldda. And they were gooooooood. Bitches. They actually had me at "Oh, it's coming, folks, be ready."

After a quick trip to the store to buy provisions for what might be the end of the world, I actually made soup. And it was good. Seriously, don't keel over from the shock.

Anyhooo, that was Saturday. And then Sunday. By Monday, I was sick of waiting for the Second Coming, was getting sick of frickin' soup and was looking forward to a day at the office. It was a sunny day, and though my street looked a little glazed, I knew I only had about 1/2 a mile to drive, so all was looking good. I gathered up my usual stuff that goes to work with me: South Beach breakfast bar, Diet Coke, kleenex (yeah, still a little punie), iPod to fill with more tunes, my purse and my coat. I activated the alarm and while it was beepbeepbeeping I tugged on the back door. Wow, soup must make you weak, I thought. Did I unlock the top lock? Check. Doorknob lock? Check. Okay, try again. Geez, I really need to work on my upper body strength. Try again and nothing. My eyes drift upwards in disbelief and I see a huge crack leading from the top of the door jamb to the ceiling. And it was fresh. Maybe the Apocalypse had indeed come and my house had shifted? Nope. Just our great clay soil here in Texas. Albeit, we did get over 4 inches of moisture since Friday, but dear God, I just want to go to work / get outta this house and away from this blasted soup!

Not to be completely discouraged, I turned off the alarm, reset it and hauled booty to the front door (not easy in those measly few seconds) and exited. I had to walk all the way around back to get my car out of the garage. I hit the button to raise the g-door and WTF, it goes up about a foot and hangs there. I hit the button again and it closes. Again and it goes up a foot. Again and it closes. This goes on for about 20 hits before I figure my car is entombed forever and go around to the front door of the house, enter, run like hell to the alarm pad (by the back door that no longer works) and disarm that M-F'er. ALL I WANT TO DO IS GO TO WORK, DAMMIT! I contemplated calling the dealership to see if I could just buy a new car over the phone, but that seemed a little drastic. I was sweating. I was out of my mind. I had become an emo song. I called my boss (see how wonderful and dutiful I am?) to ask if he's going to be passing by here and could he give me a ride to work?

Boss: Didn't you get my message? We're all going to work from home today, blah blah blah.

CruiserMel: Wait. What? You called me?

Boss: Yeah, don't go in today.

CruiserMel: But, but........ I need to. *in pouty voice* (Did he really have to know that I was soup-soaked and needed human interaction?)

Boss: It's just not worth it. Too icy.

CruiserMel: But, you see....I'm trapped here.

Boss: Have a good one. See ya tomorrow.

I was deflated. Discouraged. Dis - oh I dunno. I felt like I had on one of those ankle-bracelet thingies probationers have to wear.

Then it came over me. I was crazed. I tore open my trusty tool drawer, the one with all those tool thingies and twist-ties, cuz you never know when you might need one of those. Dig, dig, dig....AHA! I grabbed a hammer (wow, I need to remove that pricetag, Mel) and like the possessed mother of a drug-addicted, gambling, prostitute teen in a Lifetime movie, I went back out the front door, around back, opened the side-door to the garage and proceded to whack away at the tracks for the g-door until I was breathless. It finally cried "uncle" (or was that just "clang"?) about an hour later. No kidding. An hour of ferocious hammering away at that thing. My neighbors already thought I was crazy. Now they know.

I released my poor car from it's prison but was too exhausted to go anywhere. All my good intentions were shot. I'm pretty sure I've got hammer elbow now. And a garage door that will probably fall on me when I'm least expecting it, just out of spite.

Whoa, that got a little wordy, huh? Sorry for the ramble.

Fast forward to today (Tuesday). I go through same routine, sans garage door hammering seeing as how I got wise to the garage door and parked in the drive (so there), go to work and have a lovely day. Here's the bestest part and the purpose of this posting.

When I got home, there was a sweet little prezzie on my doorstep. A neat little box with that familiar "Amazon" smiley on the side. Ah, yes - I'd almost forgotten that I'd cashed in my Amazon gift card I'd gotten from B & S for Christmas for some loot of the musical kind. Here's the rundown:

1. A book about Todd Rundgren.
2. "Pet Sounds" by The Beach Boys, remastered digitally. It's beautiful.
3. "The Village Sessions" by John Mayer, for those nights I need something accoustic.
4. "Daughtry" by, uh, Chris Daughtry. And it's GOOD.
5. A DVD of Todd Rundren in San Fran. (haven't seen it yet but you know how I love me some Todd.)

Thanks B & S for the gift card. You've made my day. Oh - do you know any garage door repair men?