Rolling

[viridian5]

I started the morning off right by hitting a patch of black ice as I drove near the train station looking for a parking spot. Fortunately, I had a cleared place on the right that I could skid into with a turn of the wheel, infinitely preferably to nearly hitting the SUV in front of me. New York City's first snow of the season had been wimpy, but the ice following it was far more treacherous. This is the Civic's first winter, and thus far it's mainly been memorable for my terror that if I close the doors all the way as I clear ice and snow off the windows the automatic alarm system will lock me out. But at least I'm not as worried that I'll destroy the windows with normal use of a scraper, the way I was with The Albatross' cheese-soft, "you should clean it with Bon Ami and a chamois" glass.

My seasonal job is as repetitious as it's always been, the office's air as stale, the air conditioning as overactive, the papercuts across my fingers as plentiful and ubiquitous, the database rules as capricious, the respondents as useless to grill for correct information, the commute as long, but I missed my fellow workers here so much. A lot of last year's people returned, creating an instant comfort zone, and a darkly, snarky crew are we. Considering the work, humor is the only thing that staves off zombification.

I could do without the building's new every-time-through-the-door bag checks, which includes purses, though.