My Nomadic Adventures

Okay, so maybe its not much of an adventure, but for me, wearing the same pair of pants in one week to work is crazy.

I haven't been home since Tuesday morning because I am a big, fat wuss. I am afraid to drive in the snow or ice or sleet or (the horrors!) freezing rain. So for Tuesday night, the night before the stupid Nor'eastah, I imposed on the very agreeable GJ to sleep on her couch. She lives 5 minutes away from my work and the storm was supposed to be its worst during the morning rush hour. My commute isn't that bad, but its on the south east expressway, which is congested in the morning at best, its a raised highway, with horrible drainage. Its not even that I doubt my own ability to drive in the snow, I doubt everyone else's ability around me.

So as I watch the storm unfold around me yesterday while I was at work I started to get nervous about driving home. Listening to the people call in to make sure we were open, then berating me for being open because didn't I know that the streets were going to turn into sheets of ice? Yes I knew, well I knew because they were telling me, which in turn started to REALLY freak me out about my drive home.

I was supposed to go to C's house for dinner anyway and C lives midway between work and home so I asked to crash in her recently vacated second room.

My desire to not have to drive home to Cambridge ended up out weighing my desire to sleep in my own bed. I have a great love affair with my bed too, so you know that i had to have been really petrified.

I was prepared to crash at GJ's so I had all the necessary toiletries, PJ's, ONE change of clothes, and for some reason two extra pairs of underwear. The fact that I had enough foresight was the reason I could crash at C's. Because maybe I can wear the same pants, I would have to draw the line at underwear.

I was not disappointed either when i woke up this morning to a desolate frozen tundra outside. The street on which I was parked was a bumpy terrain of ice. Traversing that in my knee high boots produced mental images of me completely falling on my ass, but I managed to make it across to my poor frozen car.

Of course the doors were frozen shut.

After much cursing, pushing, pulling and grunting I managed to get the passenger side door opened, which allowed me to crawl into the car and kick open my driver's side door like any self-respecting New England girl would do. When in reality I just wanted to sit on the curb and cry, but I knew in doing so my tears would freeze my face and my butt would probably freeze to the curb.

Seriously!? Why do we insist on living here?

I blame my parents, as I do for most things.

So now I'm sitting here at work, in the same pair of pants I wore Tuesday and a borrowed sweater which allows my turquoise and green (discounted Victoria's Secret purchase) print bra show through at times, feeling a little discombobulated. I want my own bed, my own shampoo and conditioner, my hairdryer, my robe and most of all my razor, which I had forgotten. Ick!