Swearing like Looney Tunes.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this postGoing to work was a waste; I'm sure I didn't even cover the gas it took to get there and back. The wintery weather had me leaving early and I now sit here, at home.
I'm constantly amazed at my own disconnect with the obvious around me. All morning, working at my computer, I'd noticed a lot of white outside the large glass windows of the store, and I certainly understood that there was snow and wind, but it never occurred to me that there was snow and wind.
"Julie, you might want to go home earlier today, or you could get stranded here in town," a co-worker finally said to me.
"Why?" I asked. "Is it storming?" She looked at me oddly. My intelligence is well known among my co-workers.
"Haven't you looked out the windows?"
"Oh. Right." Now I just felt silly. "I guess I didn't realize..."
I didn't realize there was winter weather right in front of me, but, while on the phone with Network Solutions listening to annoying background music which was periodically interrupted by a voice telling me that higher call volume and inclement weather meant longer support call waits, I did find myself thinking -- not kidding here -- that I hoped there wasn't any snow on the servers.
"You should probably go a little early today," she said.
So I called my dad and asked what the weather was like in the far north regions that I know as home. He agreed that an earlier leaving time might be advisable.
I punched out at the time clock, and then opened the side service door. The wind immediately stole my breath and replaced it with ice crystals. Trudging to my Jeep, I began muttering about the shoes I was wearing.
I was wearing shoes, when I should have been wearing boots. I wore my snow boots yesterday, when it didn't snow, and so today, when it was snowing, I didn't. My snow boots, incidentally, are what I call Captain Jack Sparrow boots; if you saw them, you'd understand. They are very pirate-y, and evidence of an idiot who goes shopping for snow boots at the peak of the season and is relegated to whatever is left.
I threw my purse into the Jeep, and started it up. The heater, which started to die about three weeks ago, began squealing. Apparently there was a flock of banshees inside that I hadn't gotten around to eradicating (i.e. fixing the heater) yet.
My muttering increased to what I call a "Looney Tunes swearing" level1.
I shut the door to let it heat up and stop squealing, stumbling back inside the store. I couldn't take that racket; I'd tried, on the drive in, turning up the radio to drown out the noise, but even the AC/DC song the local rock station was playing couldn't cover the shrieking.
Toni was sitting at the break table. "Back so soon?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm gonna let old Bessie get through squealing before I go back out there," I said, pealing off my jacket, cap and scarf. Toni burst out into laughter as I explained the heater situation.
Eventually, I got out on the road and headed to a store to run the errands -- kitty litter! fabric softener! -- I had planned to do after work. I was trying to breathe as little as possible, which is really tough. The windows were fogging up, no surprise considering the heat source responsible for keeping them clear.
"For all your shrieking, can't you expel some hot air?!" I hollered at the heater. I yell at my car a lot. Yelling, of course, made the windows fog up all the faster.
Let this be a lesson to you.
I started smacking my hand against the steering wheel in annoyance. It's because I'm Irish. I blame my irrational, quick temper on that, rather than take personal responsibility.
All that smacking of the steering wheel made the windows fog up even faster.
Even faster!
Let this be a lesson to you.
Arriving at the store, having driven blindly thanks to a near completely fogged windshield with only a fist-sized patch of clarity (talk about your metaphors for life), I left the motorized beast to run and (hopefully) clear the rest of the windows in my absence.
Once the errands were done and I was on my way out of town, my winter storm survival instincts kicked in and I stopped at the drive-through coffee shop to get an iced mocha.
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1 Looney Tunes swearing sounds something like this: "ricken fracken shricken dracken". Think Yosemite Sam.
Labels: friends, my life, nature, north dakota, work
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 2/13/2008 02:58:00 PM
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3 Comments:
I prefer to think of it as an incredible degree of focused energy rather than a disconnect with the obvious around you.
I had an old CJ-5 with a heater like yours. Who knows, it might be my old heater.
By 
Rey, at
13/2/08 18:01
It's the blower motor. I have no idea where they put it in Jeeps, but if you're lucky, it's just under the dashboard, and it won't be too painfully expensive to replace.
Good luck with that; nothing is worse than trying to drive with fogged-up windows.
By 
Roy Jacobsen, at
15/2/08 08:36
I was just taking a look at your site, and I just want you to know that you're a bit of an inspiration. I'm only 21, and I love to watch movies that inspire the heart. But it's so much more different when you find real people that are living out their dream. You're a secret blessing for me. Thank you.
By , at
17/3/08 19:29
