getting OUT

I got my driver's license when I was 21. Fascinating story, really, full of procrastination and not being able to parallel park. According to those who know, I'm not a terrific driver. The truth is, I've only wrecked once, so that's not so bad. ("You drove into an 18-wheeler" says Richy Clark, in my head) ANYWAY. Sometimes I back into poles, or small cars. Whatever.

Yesterday I had to drive to Target and get R2's seizure medication and I also had to make a deposit, lest the rent check bounce. Those two things were significant enough to break my 5-day streak of not leaving the house. (Side note: I would rock as an agoraphobic. I'd be ordering Chinese food, getting my groceries off Amazon...)

The problem is, it's insanely cold. Quiet, Northerners. It's insanely cold, and there was like a jillion feet of snow in my driveway, and I don't even know if we have a snow shovel. I put out my plea on the interwebs, and some angels came and shoveled not just the driveway, but the whole sidewalk and our steps and everything and salted it all, and cleaned the ice off my windshield. We gave them cookies, and Toby nearly exploded from the excitement of it all.

Then I drove around, sliding through the residential areas and trying to figure out how to work the defrosters and see out iced windows and such, pretty much being a menace to society. Once I got on the freeway, massive blocks of snow started shooting off the top of the van into the cars behind me, and I gotta tell you, I felt pretty hardcore, like I had some kinda laser rays or you know, those tailgate rocket things. Did the essential chores and also ate a cheeseburger in glorious silence, and then it was back to the zoo, where my purchases of eggs and butter were cheered loudly.

Did I just use about 300 words to say I drove to Target? Yes, yes I did. And if you got this far, you read it all, so I guess it was good enough to post. OR, you are seriously bored. 

And now, some cuteness: