I have an incredibly hard time coping with this area when the weather is bad. It makes me want to throw myself to the ground in a four year old's temper tantrum. This morning I shoveled, and shoveled, and shoveled. Nevermind that I just snowblowed the parking area yesterday around noon. I was stuck as could be there for a while. Nothing classier than a chick in a skirt swearing at the snow and tossing it over her shoulder. My arms and shoulders are already sore from this crap. After much tire spinning, my car was out and I was "on my way" to work. I put that in quotes because most of it was trying to get the vehicle to start moving since there is a mess of snow on all of the roads, and then trying to get stopped as the car just slid across crud. The one big slide had me headed for a tractor trailer that felt the need to turn from Galleria drive at the newest light by Northrop. Again, only my driveway was plowed in, the people across the street
– nothing but their tire tracks – me it was up above where the vehicle body starts. Ugh. I'm sure they'll plow it back in again while I'm here too, that's the freakin fun part.
So, I called to check on the Durango. One part – the rear bumper – is on national friggin backorder, it "could be months". Nice, eh? Well, at least it's drivable without this part, so I might be able to get it back tomorrow evening, if I can get there to get it. Even then my tenant will be coming back soon and I'll need to keep snow cleared for his ability to access the parking space. I've been throwing rocks galore into my yard since no one will pave my driveway.
Right now, I just want a hug and someone to tell me stuff will be okay. I'm tired of needing to deal with things on my own. I'm not saying I want someone to dig me out, but it would be nice to have someone standing beside me with a second shovel and joining in a chorus of cursing out Richland Twp for plowing "us" in. Facing the world alone is just so tiring sometimes and it's always the stupid small stuff that seems to break the camel's back.
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