notes from the snowbound

here in indiana, it is cold. cold-cold. snow-gray-sky-ick-ice-evil cold. here are my notes about it, and what happens when it descends and never leaves.

1. my crackhead neighbors have a new full time job. they shovel. at midnight. they come to my door, knock loudly, and when i groggily open the door, they say, "ma'am, i don't mean no harm, can i shovel your walk for five dollars?" when i say, "no, thank you," they say, "well, you got a cigarette then?" this happens at least every other night. they're either rich or well on their way to a full pack.

2. my windshield is cracking. i can hear it while i drive, because when it is cold outside, the cd player refuses to play and makes mournful, whiny, cd-spinning sounds. but it is less pleasant to hear the sharp snap of a branch breaking and realize that, in fact, it's my windshield, cracking another 1/2 inch. i am waiting for it to explode and spray me with glass, which will look like snow and ice, and so no one will realize what's happened.

3. i got the winter sick this week. a tiny nasty virus, which resembles the flu in all things except it is not the flu. i stayed home from school -- i felt like a twelve year old. except i had to get up to get the popsicles myself. when i fell asleep with the achy spine and arms that come with the flu, i had a dream that my students had made a voodoo doll of me and were laughing gleefully while spearing it with needles. i did not wake up feeling any better.

4. my students panic when i miss class. they miss class all the time, whenever, but when i'm not there... different story. one student wrote me a long email sob story about how she could not finish her paper on time. paraphrase: "my twelve children are sick it might be the plague seven people are at death's door it's my responsibility to care for them all i cannot finish this paper on time and i do not know what i will do if you have a heart at all please give me an extension."

i write back, "we do not have class today anyway, as i am sick. please turn in your paper thursday."

she writes back, "i am going to come to your office tomorrow preferably between 3:00 and 4:00 so you can look over my paper."

i write back, "i'm not sure i will be in my office tomorrow as i have THE FLU. "

she writes, "i'm sending my paper with this email so that you can look it over before we meet tomorrow."

i think, "wha...?" and go back to sleep.

5. we've had two snow days this semester. the days they decide to call snow days always end up being beautiful, sparkly, sunny days. the days after those lovely snow days are awful. but the powers-that-be are ashamed of their previous lack of weather prescience, and so we must trudge, slide, slip, and spin into school on those days. absurd.

6. my new full time job: fishtailing.

7. unrelated to the cold, but made more irritating because of it: the police have come to my door twice in the last month. it always goes like this: BANG BANG BANG on the door. i open it.

the uniformed officer, with his hand on his gun/club/whatever, asks, "are you courtney so-and-so?"

"no," i say in a panic.

"did your ex just drop off the children?"

"no, i have no children. i have no exes with children."

"is this your home address?"

"yes."

"stupid caller. i'll have to talk to dispatch. sorry for the trouble."

whoever this courtney person and her ex are (and their invisible children), they are apparently living in my house. whenever i find them, we're going to have words.

and that's all i got for you now. this in no way outshines aaron's picture of his girl who is a friend, or kan's acting skills, but it's indiana. what do you want from me?