Did that little groundhog (Phil, right?) see his shadow this year? I'm ready for this winter to end. The snow and ice is all fun and games until Christmas-- and then it's not funny to me anymore.
The winter can wreak havoc on a lot of things; not only does it make my skin pasty and my hair electric, it leaves my car filthy from all the sand and de-ice mix. And since getting out and handwashing my car during the winter months is out of the question, I found myself at the neighborhood car wash today. (You might be wondering why this deserves a blog entry, but keep reading). People have fears. Normal people fear spiders, heights, flying, etc., but I am not normal. I fear car washes. As I am pulling up to pay for the price of a clean car, I can barely stick my credit card into the slot because my hands are horribly shaking. The gate opens, and as I pull foward; I realize there's no turning back. I literally freak out as I'm going through one of these things. It's not that I'm clausterphobic. It's the fact that I'm stuck in my car for 90 seconds with huge brushes that look like octopi slapping their ugly little tentacles on my car. And those tentacles are powerful enough to actually shake and make my car rumble. Did I mention there's zero visibility while you're in these car washes? The light at the end of the tunnel can't come quickly enough, and as the car wash spits you out, you realize that you are centimeters from someone elses bumper (who proceeds to sit in neutral while you're blantanly honking for them to move). It's all very traumatic, really. Have you been through one? They're scary, right?