Mumble, grumble

Since I last updated, my dad and I have driven across the country. It was fun. Somewhere between Georgia and Kentucky, we had a conversation about this blog. I have a love/hate relationship with blogs. I don't want to talk too much about school on here, for the sake of other people's privacy. I don't want to talk about work, for the same reasons, as well as the issue of reader interest. ("So today, I stamped five letters and took them down to the post office. And then I e-mailed some people, and I even scanned a few documents!!!!) And since basically all the events in my day are connected with school or work, what else is there to blog about? Only all that stuff that happens between my two ears.

Hence, posting has been scarce.

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A few months ago, a friend of mine e-mailed me. She hadn't heard from me, and the best explanation she could think of was that there was a young man in my life. I had to write back and tell her that no, I'm just a lame friend who forgets to respond to e-mails.

But what's funny is that I apparently think I'm in a relationship. A few weeks ago, I was sitting in library, talking to my roommate, and these words came out of my mouth: "You know, if I were single..."

I was about to continue my sentence when my roommate helpfully reminded me that I am, in fact, single.

But I don't feel like I am. Nope. I'm in a deeply committed relationship with School. We're together all the time. To be honest, he's a bit possessive. I feel like I'm always taking care of him, and he never lets me go out and do other stuff. He insists on dates every night except Sunday. I'm constantly trying to make him happy. Sometimes, I just want to dump him. In fact, our relationship has been on the rocks lately, so we're taking a week break. And we are definitely NOT spending Christmas together. I'm going to catch up with an old buddy of mine named Sleep. School gets jealous and tries to keep us apart, but we always find ways to meet secretly. But in spite of his possessiveness, I really do like School. Somehow, we always patch things up. Still, I'm planning to break up with him in about 2.5 years...that is, unless he breaks up with me first.

I'm pretty sure that entire paragraph is proof that I need to get out more.

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Sometime this autumn, I decided I wasn’t going to grumble about the upcoming winter. It didn't make sense. Complaining wouldn't change anything, and I might as well get used to winter weather. After all, God brought me to Idaho, and He could very well lead me out of Idaho and into another land equally cold and snowy. No sense in kicking and screaming. And you know, I don't even really want to live in FL for the rest of my life. It would be far more exciting to find a job in some random state (country?) and move there. When opportunity knocks, I don't want to be too fettered by snow-hatred to answer the door.

I do believe "fettered by snow-hatred" is one of the weirdest phrases to pop out of my brain and onto this blog. The more I look at it, the less sense it makes. Anyway.

Say I get married, and my husband take a job in Snowville, Utah. By the way, I don't know anything about that place; I just really (dis)liked the name. I've seen women bitter about their husbands moving them to hot, humid FL (a bitterness which I don't understand), and I really don't want to be like that. And since I have a slight problem with people leaving their spouses for better weather, it looks like the only option is to cheerfully accept one's circumstances.

And it looks like I wouldn't be ready to do that, since I apparently can't even cheerfully accept my circumstances when I'm the one who moved myself out to Idaho in the first place. Clearly, some sanctification is in order.

Grumbling is grumbling. The fact that I'm from FL doesn't make it okay for me to grumble. (It does make it okay for me to utterly fail at driving in the snow.) God created snow, and there's a side of Him that I'm not appreciating when I hate snow. It's closeminded.

And so, with all these thoughts percolating in my head, I was all ready to attack this winter with a perky, Pollyanna smile.

And then….we had our first snow. And the first words out of my mouth when I got up that morning and saw the white world waiting outside my window? Let’s just say they weren’t exactly, “Thank you, Jesus.”

It's not that I utterly despise snow. There are a few things I like about it. It’s fun to play in. It makes nights brighter. It’s pretty. It makes me feel like I’m living in a Hallmark Christmas special.

But I hate driving in it. I don’t enjoy unearthing my car every time I want to go somewhere. I don’t like scraping ice off my windshield. I don’t like slipping and sliding all over the road. I don't like not being able to see, because I feel like I'm driving in a snow globe. I don't like feeling like I could get into an accident at any second.

All of this after one day of driving in it.

But you know, I feel like I've come a long way, since I distinctly remember saying that I'd never be able to drive period. But that's another blog post for another time. I'm sure - with time - I'll figure this whole snow-driving thing out. It's just frustrating. I'm hoping my Florida license plate is functioning like one of those "STUDENT DRIVER" magnets, because I need extra grace from people on the road.

And all you people back home, now that I’ve bared my soul to you …just know that every time you gloat about the 80 degree temperature, you’re causing your weaker sister to stumble. So there.