please remember that it's January, and you live in the part of the country known colloquially as Hey, You Idiot, It Snows In January Around Here.
please remember that snow has a tendency to sit on top of vehicles, and that your apartment complex's snowplows will not plow in the immediate vicinity of vehicles. they really don't plow the snow off the vehicles themselves, either.
please remember that if you are going to shovel snow off your truck, having the shovel, like you did remember, is a very good start! it is not, however, the only thing you need to remember.
please remember that your loafers are not snow-appropriate. you have boots. they are, in fact, winter boots, designed to keep your feet warm and dry, and therefore they are the footwear you should be wearing while shoveling snow from any one location to any other.
On the other hand, I can feel all my toes, they don't hurt, and the rent check made it into the mail on time. Even if my feet and hands were about half-frozen by the time I got into my truck.
for the record, this is my advice:
when you know that your truck's windshield wipers aren't working, whether or not you know why they aren't working, and you leave for school and note that the sky is a semi-menacing grey and the lights are dim enough that your eyes aren't hurting from the sun, don't be surprised when it starts pouring on you.
go ahead and panic while you try to drive with 10% visibility, but don't be surprised.
(I made it to school fine, more or less, except for the massive stress; if it rains at all on the drive home, though, I am so fucking waiting it out.)
today we went to a mechanic's shop to buy a truck.
this is true except in all the ways it's a lie; we went to a mechanic's because the chief of the body shop was selling me the truck, and I needed his signature on a couple pieces of paper (technically only one, more on that later) in order to go to the DMV. that was fine, that was easy, it was signed and all was well and good and we went out to the parking lot, got in Rue's car, and it wouldn't start – of course – because it was humid, and that is the car's one problem, with humidity and having been recently driven. we were at a mechanic's shop. unfortunately, Rue's car is a Toyota, and the mechanic didn't service Toyotas.
when it eventually started, as it is prone to do, we drove to the DMV; we went into line for Information; ten seconds passed, approximately, and a woman asked me what I needed. I said I wanted to know if I had all the right paperwork to register a truck from a private sale; she started looking through it, and handed me back a few pieces, and threw away one of the two pieces I'd gotten carefully signed because the truck is too old to need that page filled out. At some point, after several minutes (which also included updating my registration, what with having moved a month ago and forgetting to change my address-on-file) I realized that, hey, was this actually just information?
"do you have payment?" she asked, and looked at the checkbook I was holding, and I said yes, of course, I just thought I'd have to go stand in the line (and gestured). "oh," she answered, "I thought I'd save you that, since there wasn't anyone standing over there then."
all told, the total time spent at the DMV to register a vehicle and change two ID addresses (as Rue did hers also) was maybe as much as twenty minutes.
goddamn I'm glad I don't live in Manhattan today.