While my dear friend Katie made a list (and accomplished something, despite her protestations that she did not), I spent much of the past weekend sacked out on the couch, watching TV, and knitting. (I am knitting the second of a pair of socks.) I also watched it snow. And snow. And snow. And measured the snow on the back porch. 24 inches, by my last measurement, at 9 pm-ish on Saturday night.
Sunday morning, I awoke to the typical bright sunshine in the wake of a storm. The sun just seems brighter after the storm gray + the reflection off the snow seems particularly reflect-y. I decided to shovel out my car before I showered, logically. I bundled up, set out, and closed the door behind me... which is where the problem began. I locked myself out. In the cold. In the snow. No roommates home, nothing. I started to swear and then cry, but then decided that's not what adults should do in this situation. Instead, I decided to shovel and pray that my roommate would come home.
Shovel, shovel, shovel. Chat with neighbors. Mention that I locked myself out. The woman who lives next door is my new favorite person -- she knew that my lock (and all of our locks, apparently) can be jimmied with a credit card. Hallelujah. Thank goodness for neighbors. Christmas cookies for everyone!