And how was your week?

Dear World,
I am not pleased with you right now. I have some gripes and I'd like to air them out here. Then I will put this all behind me and move on, continuing to be my peppy old self again.

I don't mind the cold. I really don't. January sucks and those of us who live in Minnesota just deal with it. What I object to is that everyone expects things to be NORMAL when it is this cold. Look, things aren't normal. I'm slower moving. My car is certainly slower moving (much more so NOW, but that will be a later gripe). Why do you, Dear World, have the same expectations that you did for me in June? The sun sets at 4:30. You expect me to work after this time? Because...really? All I want to do is sleep.

The high school where I work is clearly situated directly above a pipeline to all the germs and diseases and viruses in the CDC. A couple of months ago, we had an outbreak of the chicken pox (seriously? there's a vaccine!!). Earlier this week we got an email from the school nurse notifying us that there were two severe illnesses striking down the children in our midst - a stomach bug that causes 48 hours of severe discomfort and a respiratory bug (her words, not mine) that had caused our principal to lose her voice that takes about three weeks to go away. Her advice? Wash your hands.

So, Dear World, what happened to me? I managed to not wash my hands often enough, I guess. Last night I came home at 5:00 and collapsed into bed where I stayed until 7:00 this morning. I am the proud new inhabitant of some handy dandy respiratory bugs.

Now, I figured this morning when I woke up that I could manage the trip to school (still bitter out there - it's warmer, but it's still -12), teach my two classes, maybe go to Target to get some cough medicine, get to my hair cut (scheduled f0r 2:00 today), and, you know, go home and sleep for the next two days straight.

There was black ice. I knew it. I was going slow, hanging out in the right lane. I'm like an old lady in my two wheel drive truck. I had three car lengths in front of me. A red (orange? who can tell with the vehicles all covered in salt) SUV spins out in the left lane, causing a chain reaction that ends with me, in the right lane, hitting some woman with a suspended license who had come into my lane to avoid other swerving cars in her lane, swerving into the median, and nearly hitting a telephone pole. This is not exactly like the incident in June when Monster's front end got whacked, but similar enough. The driver of the SUV drove away, unscathed.

This time, however, a police officer saw the whole thing. I end up standing on the side of Highway 7 for half an hour, hacking up my lungs, in the -12 degree air. Meanwhile, the woman with the suspended license (and a warrant, I guess) gets to sit in the nice warm police car. A tow truck pulled my truck out of the median, it was pronounced drivable, and I was sent off to do my business.

Now, Dear World, instead of teaching my classes, I am waiting patiently for the insurance company to call me back.

Dear World, I made that appointment for a hair cut to help me with my stress-y January. You are not helping me. Now I have to decide - go to the appointment or not? Take the bus there or get into my dear truck (he's such a good truck - he started EVERY DAMN FREEZING COLD, BELOW ZERO DAY this week) with its ghetto, mangled up face, and drive there, hoping not to get a ticket for driving a safety hazard through the city?

I'm sick. I'm concerned that two accidents (neither one my fault!) in seven months may in some way damage my future insurability or my poor truck. I'm tired.

I have tried to remain upbeat, World, but you are bringing me down. Could you please bring me some good news? Or, at the very least, a brand new puppy?

Yours (much aggrieved),