Two mornings in a row, the same middle-aged Asian man stepped onto our metro car and started singing made up Gospel songs. I assume they were made up because they were not any of the three that I’d heard before and I am clearly an expert. One of them was about a sinking ship and obviously that inspired Dave to start singing pirate shanties for the rest of our journey to work.
The Gospel singer really did his job, because when we came home, Dave was still touched by the music. He played sea shanties on YouTube for two and a half hours, swaying and waving his arms to songs about whiskey, women, and waves.
This is my life.
Yesterday I walked 7 miles through the snow so I could snowboard at the Washington monument. It turns out it’s not a great place to board, since the incline was about 4 degrees and the powder was too high. Whatev though. Sometimes you have to take life into your own hands.
Here is some of what Dave and I saw while we were out becoming rogue winter sports enthusiasts:
- A thousand tiny people sliding down the hill at the Capitol building on make-shift sleds, including tupperware lids, cardboard boxes, political signs, pool toys, and garbage can tops.
- Forty-seven people digging out their cars, flinging snow into the street and onto other cars. Don’t ask me where these people thought they were going.
- A husky laying in two feet of snow, super chill and obviously in his happy place.
- A six year old heading straight toward a statue in the park with his sled, definitely planning to slide down the base.
- A mother asking her six year old if he is really going back to the statue after he already hurt himself there once.
- A six year old reluctantly deciding not to sled down the base of a statue and instead choosing the steps.
- My new friend, Adam, who Dave and I met both on our walk to monument and our trek back. He agreed that the Capitol was overrun with tiny children and shared our general joy for the day.
- A super rad dude kite-boarding on the Mall.
- A tiny puppy who got lost in the very deep snow but was eventually like, “NBD. I got this.”
- A group of international tourists who were probably more excited about the guy using a snowblower in front of the Natural History museum than they would have been in the museum. Or maybe not. They seemed to be really excited about life in general.
Everyone is pretty happy about this whole situation. Except the people who own that car that caught fire because they got stuck and couldn’t accept reality. That’s what denial does to you.
I have been doing snow dances around my yard. I mostly just wave my arms in the air, stomp my feet, and yell nonsense about how the snow is here. I look like a crazy woman, but I often look like a crazy woman, so no big deal.
It hasn’t really felt like winter until now. We’ve had cold, rainy days, but we haven’t had any snow. I’ve been wearing my fancy winter coat and this is my first chance to break out the real jacket. Now I can bundle up in all my gear, decide I have to pee, peel it all off, take care of business, get it all back on, and wander through the snow. You snow-folk know what I’m talkin’ about.
As a Michigander, I’m not used to ringing in the new year without any snow on the ground. It was feeling like fall just lingered for too long. Like an awkward guest who stayed at a party even after all the hummus ran out, it didn’t know when to go home. I don’t usually have that problem at a party because I always want to go home. Lucky for me, Snowzilla is forcing everyone inside, so Dave and I can gambol around the neighborhood alone.
I think the apocalypse is coming because there were firemen on my street corner this evening and my drain is backed up for no reason and there are helicopters circling around us. There’s also that whole super snowstorm rumbling up the coast thing, but this apocalypse is less about that. It’s mostly about the drain and helicopter situation.
Dave is just hanging out with our neighbors, gleefully attempting to resolve the drainpipe situation in a friendly and responsible manner, while I’m over here realizing the world is about to end. Acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Pretty soon, he won’t have a care in the world because there will be NO WORLD.
Wait, I don’t think an apocalypse necessarily means the world will dissolve into nothingness or explode into a million tiny pieces. It probably means that we’ll all just be set on fire or turn into fiery mutants or be eaten by fire monsters. Basically, it’s all about a fiery death and scorched earth. So I guess there will be some world, but it’s not gonna be a fun one.
I was excluded from the drainpipe resolving team because of my zest for quick solutions. In the investigatory stage, we learned that when our neighbor turned on her garbage disposal, it filled our sink. And vice versa. Her boyfriend suggested we turn them on at the same time and I immediately yelled, “Go big or go home!” through the wall and flipped the switch. The water overflowed into both of our laundry rooms. I was sent away.
I think they’re coming up with a game plan, but I’ve taken on the most important task—alerting everyone to the apocalyptic realities of the evening. Good luck out there, guys.
People usually have one of two opinions regarding this unseasonably warm winter. Either they’re happy about avoiding hat hair or sad about the melting Arctic ice. I’m here to add a new perspective to this very important conversation.
Our squirrels are getting fat. They’re so confused by the lack of cold, they just keep running around grassy parks and eating our pizza crusts. I can identify with the desire to keep on snacking, but it’s getting serious. Take a look around. The next squirrel you see will probably be just a little too chunky. Or more than a little. We’re gonna have to stage an intervention or create some kind of weight watchers for squirrels program. Squirrels don’t seem prone to commitment, so we should get the fees upfront.
A couple mornings ago, I was rudely awakened by the sound of pounding at my front door. If you think alarms are a terrible way to wake up (of course you do, because you’re human), do not replace that method with a really strong man knocking down your door.
Luckily, the guy wasn’t there to kill me, he was there to save me. My neighbor smelled a gas leak inside her condo and just outside our building. In a responsible and well-informed move, she called the city to alert them of the danger. The worker was worried that I also had a gas leak and came to my rescue by giving me a heart attack. I rolled out of bed and zombie walked over to the door. He informed my groggy brain about the situation and asked if he could come inside. I was wrapped in a Dr. Who Tardis blanket and mumbled ok. If he was a serial killer, I would definitely be dead right now.
Gas-guy ran in and out of my condo a dozen times with a tiny beeping box, waving it at the walls and inside my laundry closet. He pulled out my stove and waved the box around there. He said my heat was up too high and made me turn it off. I think it was throwing off the readings and also making him sweat. He told me my water heater was set at too high a temperature and moved the knob a bit (that didn’t impact the leak, he was just concerned about my utilities bill and dry skin). Gas-guy was here so long the battery in his truck died and he had to call a tow truck for a jump. It was a serious gas leak situation.
Because I am mature and also filled with anxiety, I asked him all the important questions one must ask in this kind of situation:
- Will I die in a fiery explosion? (Answer: No, the levels are not high enough. Yet.)
- My carbon monoxide detector didn’t alert me to this dangerous situation, so it’s useless and I should just throw it away, right? (Answer: Something about carbon monoxide only occurring when metals are burned. I didn’t understand any of it.)
- Are you really sure I won’t die in a fiery explosion? (Answer: You won’t, but it’s a good thing we’re here, because gas leaks only get worse.)
My new friend was very nice, but he told me the whole situation was a challenge. He couldn’t find the source, which did NOT ease my anxiety about the explosions. He finally decided it was outside our building. Another team came in the afternoon to fix those pipes and I’m assuming they did an acceptable job, because no one woke me up this morning. Literally no one. I was late for work. Thanks for having my back, gas-guy.
My neighbor turns up the volume on his tv every evening around 9:47pm. I can never tell what he’s watching, but the loud mumblings make their way through his floor and my ceiling. I like to imagine he’s really into the classroom scenes in Charlie Brown cartoons. Or that part in Bruce Almighty where Jim Carrey makes Steve Carell blabber incoherently while reporting the evening news. I bet he’s just watching CSI: Miami though, since he’s lame and probably into basic plots and familiar punch lines.
Our neighbors have been fighting a lot this weekend. Usually, they just bother me by playing their music loudly, but today they’ve been fighting about fixing something and Home Depot. Yesterday, they fought about how she doesn’t need anyone and something that costs $4,000. Dave and I have been putting together the pieces (really, just those four pieces) and have determined that they had some kind of accidental home disaster—maybe their dog tore up all the floors or one of them flushed something unflushable down the toilet. Either way, something needs to be fixed, it’s gonna be expensive, and she is not happy about it.
From now on, Dave and I will be disagreeing in whispered tones.