the everyday adventures of sabrina

* niqui contemplates snow.
you know, i have the best weather prediction method in the world. it’s all about my shoes. whatever conditions my footwear is inappropriate for is what we’re going to get, but only once i’m out of the house and stuck with those shoes.
the other day when i had to trek halfway across the city in sleet and rain, i was in converse all-stars. (at least i had worn the pair with fewer holes that day.)
today, after it cleverly didn’t snow on my windows or the neighbors’, so i thought that it had probably just pretended to snow, i wore shoes that don’t even cover my ankle bones and have two inch heels. non-ideal footwear for standing in 8 inch plowed drifts while scraping ice off the car.
bah.

it probably only snowed 2″ or so overnight, which was about what was predicted. so that was no trouble at all really. but now it’s coming down in great, gleeful abundance. as it looks like it will probably continue to do for a while.

you are all welcome to phone me every morning and ask me what shoes i picked out, so that you may dress accordingly.

From: Gentleness I. Adjectival <expletive@facultyshack.com>

well, about all i have to say about that whole experience is that if chicago ever really wanted to solve the problem of people not paying their parking tickets, they’d mandatorily impound the car of every new resident, and then once every ten years or so for existing residents. having had to go through that particular experience once would certainly make people want to avoid it. — well, that, and it’s a very, very good thing i went into the entire thing cheerful. that place was sort of a cesspool of misdirected anger. (sweetie, i’m sorry, but it just ain’t the mayor’s fault you didn’t read the “no parking Dec 1-Apr 1″ signs, and i’m not going to vote against him on your say-so. certainly not until you learn a more expansive vocabulary.)

the person who helped me spring my car, tonya, was unbelievably nice and cheerful, especially in the face of such horrible people. i think i shall write a letter to her supervisor. i sincerely doubt that people who work at the auto pound frequently get letters of thanks.

(i was amused to find that the paperwork for each car was stamped in RED INK LETTERS ONE INCH HIGH with what category that particular car’s problem was. mine was, quasi-appropriately, “STEAL.” (you’d think it would be “STOLEN” or “THEFT” or something. “STEAL” kind of sounds like an imperative to me.) one sketchy man whose every other word was either “fuck” or some variant thereof, or “motherfucking,” had papers stamped “SOLICITING.” meanwhile, this nattily-dressed young gentleman — we shall call him “Chad,” for that is what he was — had papers stamped “SCOFFLAW.”)

so. car: no longer stolen, safely in my parking lot once more, and verified reported recovered. wallet: $160 lighter. (ouch!) clock: well, there went four hours of my life i can never have back.

now to figure out how the hell to get that awful grease pencil off my windows so i’m not driving around looking like my car was just impounded.