Liz hate snow.

[Warning: the following post devolves into Finnegan's Wake-style stream-of-consciousness , partly because of rage and despair, and partly because of vodka.]

Okay, I don't hate the snow, but I am not a fan of driving home after it's been snowing all day in above-freezing temperatures, meaning that the roads stayed melted all day until the exact second that the temperature dipped below 0 (Celcius, of course. One never realizes the full extent of Fahrenheit's retardedness until one moves somewhere where it actually freezes regularly. 32? Whose 3-am super-high idea was that? "Dude, okay, check it out check it out check it out. Okay. Wait. Okay. What if, like, everything didn't freeze at zero? What if, like, it froze at a totally random temperature like 32? Woah. I just totally blew your mind. Who wants Del Taco?")

So anyway, I was driving home today after it had been snowing all day in above-freezing temperatures, right up until the temperature dipped below 0/32. My office is really close to the freeway. When I leave work at 6, even with Denver's "rush hour" (they are so cute), I make it to the freeway within four minutes.

Today it took me 90 minutes. An hour and a half.

An hour and a half. That's the length of most Disney movies. I could have watched "The Little Mermaid" in the time it took me to go about a mile. I could have watched three episodes of Family Guy, with commercials and everything, which is something I never do because of Tivo. I'm trying to come up with another analogy about how long an hour and a half is, without relating it to visual media, but I'm having a hard time. I guess I could take my dog on a really long walk in 90 minutes

So to pass the time, I listened to Bernard Fanning's "Tea & Sympathy," which Funundrum highly recommends. He's the lead singer of Powderfinger, an excellent Australian band that Funundrum also highly recommends. Check with me for details. Please forgive me. I've had two stiff drinks at this point in the post, and I'm starting to wander.

I also penned this rant:

I thought about spending this precioius time writing a will, but insted I'll make
a very valid point: When the cars on the other side of the intersection have not
moved for the last four light cycles, do not be the asshole who thinks that your
car belongs behind them, like maybe this is the lucky draw and you're going to
win the intersection lottery. You're not being stealthy. You're not flying
Wonder Woman's invisible jet. You're just holding up cross traffic, making the
rest of us look bad, and generally being part of the problem. Of course, never
mind that I'm listening to an iPod because my FM transmitter has gone missing
and I'm writing on a scrap of paper on top of a Frank Sinatra double album in
the dark.

At least I felt a pang of guilt. Anyway, after I passed a certain point, the traffic let up and I turned down another major street to make my way home. Unfortunately, about halfway, it was closed due to accidents and stranded cars and I had to turn off into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Now, I will turn off into just about any unfamilar neighborhood this side of Compton or perhaps northside Dublin (at least when I'm sober -- northside Dublin apparently doesn't faze me after a few pints). However, this particular neighborhood hid a menace that Dublin and Compton can't boast -- icy-ass roads. This is the kind of ice that looks like a zamboni took care of it. It's kind of creepy. I was taking the whole thing at about 5 mph, and I was still sliding into the curb from time to time.

Then I got lost.

Then I got stuck.

I was behind several other people who seemed to know where they were going, and they all came to a dead stop at the bottom of a gentle slope, seemingly to navigate their way around a couple of cars that had gotten stuck on the hill. Now, I'm talking about a 15 degree grade here. Nothing major. But imagine you weigh 1000 pounds, and you're trying to roll up a slick hill on wheels. Yeah. Pretty lame. Well, I had to do that in my Honda Civic. Needless to say, I got stuck about 3/4 of the way up. For those of you who have never lived in the less-temperate climes, let me fill you in. You're in your car. It won't go up, because it can't get enough traction to get you there. You can go down, but your only option is to back into a side street where you can a) call your friends who have weak-ass Japanese or German cars like you and can't come pick you up or b) find somewhere to pee in the snow and wait for your fiance to get out of business school for the evening so he can come pick you up.

It was at that moment that I began to cry. I cried that whiny sort of cry, where I tell myself that I'm tired, and I just want to go home, and I'm stuck and I hate everyone. Then, because I'm awesome, the most amazing thing (usually) happens: I hear the voice of Mammy, from Gone with the Wind -- it's not the exact quote, and it never has been, but I always hear "You've been strong for so long, Miss Scarlett -- you just got to keep on being strong." And I dried my tears, and kept going, and after a very nice man pushed me the rest of the way up the hill (thank you thank you!!!) I finally found my way home, two and one-half hours after leaving work. This is why I've had a couple drinks, and I'm glad to say Chris is home from school and we're going to find something to eat. This is why I'm going to enjoy the hell out of Colorado while I'm here, but I'm looking forward to moving somewhere slightly more temperate when we leave.

Thank you for listening.