When I left for work this morning, my car was covered, not with the thick dew it so often is in this drenching climate, but with crystalline webs of ice. And I don't have one of those window-scraper things. And I'm guessing the percentage of drivers in this city who do have one of those window-scraper things is in the low single digits. What to do? What to do? Well, I sat. And watched with weird pleasure as the defroster did its slow work, and Rorschachian blobs of clarity spread across the windshield, and at last I could go.
Ah, the irony: we can claw our way back from apocalyptic hurricanes but are immobilized by a brief wee-hours dip into the low thirties. That's alright. Work could wait a bit. And the ice was very pretty.