Dig me out

For the price of a turned ankle and a broken ice scraper, I was able to get around town yesterday. I still insist that we didn't get that much snow. The freezing rain and sleet that followed it were the problems.

My biggest obstacle was getting my car out of its parking space. My neighbors have become more brazen in ignoring my right to a parking spot at the building, so I've been leaving my car in the municipal lot a short walk away. I thought this might work to my benefit with the bad weather. My street wouldn't be cleared, and if my neighbors can't be bothered to carry their trash twenty feet to the curb, they surely won't shovel our parking area.

Unfortuantely, whoever cleared the parking lot was good enough to pile a bunch of snow up to the bumper of my car. To top that, while I was cleaning my car a city official told me not to park it there that night because they were going to be clearing the lot. So if I can't park it at home or on the street, what options do I have?

After plenty of window scraping, a workout that resulted in the scraper snapping, I floored the gas in an attempt to get over the snow hump behind my car. I made slow, incremental progress, but it wasn't until some people came along to give me a push that I made it out.

Miraculously, I arrived at the screening of a local Bollywood screenwriter's film in time. Since schools and some businesses were closed, traffic was light. The major roadways were as clear as could be, so it was smooth sailing to downtown Columbus. After the movie I made the short drive to the arena to get a ticket for the hockey game.

Cheap seat in hand, I got something to eat and dropped into the coffee shop next to the arena for some pre-game knitting. The seats in this Starbucks were practically on top of one another, but I found one with a little room to maneuver. I felt more on display here than I have at other places, and before long it was pretty apparent that a deaf couple was staring at me while I knitted. I guess that beats being turned into a sad bastard in someone's creative writing assignment.

Upon reaching my seat in the arena I started knitting again. Space is at a premium, so I knew my time would be limited to however long the seats next to me remained unoccupied. It turned out not to matter. I couldn't find an effective way of holding onto my knitting and pulling yarn from two skeins, so after completing a row I packed it up again.

The game was sort of dull, a matter not helped by the sparse, listless crowd. (The cold and feared driving conditions were probably more responsible for the downturn in attendance than Valentine's Day.) Everybody spread out in my section, so I had plenty of room to knit. I was feeling sluggish and content to watch whatever was in front of me.

My instinct regarding the goings-on at home last night were confirmed when I heard someone tear out of the apartment beside me and stand nattering in the stairwell that she could feel the cold from there. Brilliant observation. Oh yeah, she was high as a kite.

Thanks for the suggestions on how I might save myself from frogging the entire hat. I'll have to buy some smaller needles for the salvage job. It was so disspiriting to have that happen that I've avoided it since leaving it in shambles. The scarf was rescued, though.