sunday night, i got in my car to drive to work. well, not my car, exactly, the little silver malibu i’ve been driving courtesy of big-ass dumptruck’s insurance company, but i’m getting used to it enough to think of it as temporarily mine. anyway, hopped in the car, and drove through some lightly falling snow up a pine-forest lined hillside to get to my building at the top. while passing through the property-line gates, there was a little dip that had been filled in with snow and topped with a thick layer of sleety ice. as i drove across that, the car skidded like crazy and then flipped over topside-down as lightly as if it was a tin toy, tossing me out into a bank of snow in the process. i slogged over to where the car was precariously balanced at a 30° angle to the ground, grabbed the front bumper with my hands pointing different directions, and flipped it right-ways. though there was a good deal of scratching & dents on the hood, it started back up with no trouble, and i made it on to work. all day, people kept coming by the office to check that i was ok, given that the car was so obviously seriously damaged. i went out at the end of the day, and wow, that ding was a lot worse than i’d thought it was, with the whole hood crushed in as by an elephant’s indiscriminate sitting habits. it was late, so i drove on home anyway.
i woke up monday with 2 very alarming thoughts: 1)WTF is up with my throat?! and 2)oh crap, i forgot to call the rental company or my insurance about that wreck.
turns out that though i had a relaxing, lovely weekend with no hint of physiologic malfunction, some unspecified respiratory illness hit me like both a ninja and a sumo (stealthy, but damn crushing once it’s there), and the sore throat was on the level of that little kid in bed all “it’ll hurt if i swallow!” once i’d determined that we had a problem and called in to work to let them know i’d be late if i could sleep this off a bit, i got up to check on the car and determine how i was going to explain this to the insurance company. the car was of course perfectly fine, being as how it’s june and there’s nary a snowflake nor ice patch to be found for several months.
ah. this, people, must be what they mean when they call something a “fever dream.” i have not dreamt so vividly as to believe it on waking in a very very long time. but i was really really convinced that i had some ‘splainin to do about that car when i woke up.
anyway, as much as i didn’t really want to turn this into my nonstop whine-fest, well, that’s what i’m coming up with lately. is there anything worse than a summer cold?¹ in a masterstroke of timing, we had tickets last night to a chic² 5-course dinner with the winemaker at a restaurant frequented by Di & co. i was sadly unable to taste much of anything. but Chris tells me it was overall rather wonderful.
¹ yes, obviously, there’s plenty worse than a summer cold. a republican presidential win, for example. living in darfur for another. a winter cold, wherein this runny nose thing freezes to your face, perhaps. still, ugh.
² that’s how french peeps say “pricey”