In Which I Ponder the Appropriateness of Certain Love Letters

There are days when I feel like a mature adult.

…. and then there are days when I must resist the urge to pen an ardent letter of deepest affection to the inventor of Cheddar Jack Cheezits.

Today happens to be the latter.

I’ll be a better adult tomorrow.


Drive Me Crazy

A week or so ago, I was on a date with a guy who asked me why I was still single. The context implied, “I think you’re great. But if you’re REALLY as great as you seem, wouldn’t you be married by now? How is a great person like you still single?”

The short answer is that I was single because I chose to be.  Almost two years ago, I had been engaged but gave the ring back (in an engagement shorter than that of a Kardashian–go figure, right?).  I could have been married by now. My ex-fiance married within 7 months of our breakup. He really wanted a wife, and I could have been one. But I chose not to accept a relationship sought to fill a function with an idea rather than the human that I am.

At a core level, the short answer is true.

But any time a question like that gets asked, my mind starts creating its lists. You know, The “Reasons Why I’m Single.” And, of course, most of the things on that list are those flaws about which I am most deeply insecure.  Things like: I can’t cook to save my life; I have the world’s corniest sense of humor; I laugh too loudly; humanity as a whole tends to irritate me–especially when I’m tired or have a headache…. You know, all those wonderful things we tend to keep OFF our online dating resumes in hopes that someone will fail to discover these issues until they have fallen for all the positive things we parade in front of them to distract from the not-so-shiny bits.

Well, today, the list reasons received yet another addition:

I live in Minnesota, land of the sub-zero January and heaps of sparkly snow. After about the second major snowstorm of the year, it stops looking so sparkly, and starts looking like a deceptively beautiful death trap. Yet I, spoiled by many a Floridian/Carolinian winter, had thus far mastered FOUR major snow storms– masterfully navigating the treacherous, ice-slick roads in a car that handles poorly on snow-covered streets. You know what they say, “Pride goes before destruction.” And in my case, the destruction happened to my front bumper.

Having managed to safely commute the 15 miles to and from work for the past three months, I was thwarted by my employer’s driveway. BY A STUPID DRIVEWAY!!!!!!


I have no words to express how humiliating it is to lose control while turning into a slick driveway when a line of vehicles waits behind and witnesses the ignominious spin out. I hit the snowbank, got stuck, and had to have someone push me out.  To add insult to injurious shame, my poor bumper is crunched quite atrociously. Who knew snow was so hard?


Ah well, though, at least I hit snow, and not one of the cars nearby.

Today I had to face the fact that I am one of the reasons why people make jokes about women being bad drivers.

Let’s do better at adulting tomorrow, shall we?