It Only Gets Worse

My husband drives a Dodge Intrepid -- a poorly named vehicle if ever I saw one. It has been so cold that the steering column squeeks when he makes the slightest turn of the wheel. It is also making a high-pitched sound that he says he can't hear. He has difficulty with the higher pitches lately -- at least that's what he claims as his excuse for not answering me.

Friday afternoon he took the garbage to the dump and came back with a '88 Ford Ranger. In lieu of turn signals, it has flashing red lights, because it was owned by a fireman. The only thing the truck has going for it is that it is nearly the same shade of blue that the carport roof is.

Just when I thought life would get back to normal today -- once we get hot water back, that is -- the power went off just as husband was taking our tomato soup off the stove. We had to listen to Fresh Air by hand-crank radio, and eat lunch by candlelight.

But I say, "Bring it on!" even at the risk of quoting a Republican. Let the weather be bad, cold, rainy, icy, so it will get it out of the system before March 9. I have places to go!