Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

Maybe I’m just not acclimated to this weather, I have been out of the great white northland for quite some time at this point, but it seems like things are getting chillier by the minute. I moved here after much delay, damn snow storms keep blowing in whenever my car decides its time to move along. Well, because I’ve spent the vast majority of my recent past purging my possessions to a manageable accumulation, I managed to cart all my goods into my apartment within the span of 15 minutes. A full hour later, and I had found homes within the cupboards and closets for it all. Whew. That was a workout.

One of my many brain farts that evening, post-tripping to Walmart for essentials, was to leave my nice winter coat in the car. I mean, it’s just outside my building, what could go wrong? Upon waking the next morning, however, I found the weather to be problematic at best. I took one walk outside, maybe the length of a football field to the apartment office, and felt my nose innards freezing to a crisp with every breath. Like crispy, crispy. My pinky fingers froze to a useless hindrance before I made it back to my apartment. They were gloved too, btws. I ended up popping open one of those hand warmers from my emergency stash, just to thaw em out. It took four hours for them to move properly under my own will, another two before the odd thick sensation stopped assaulting them.

At this time, I was mentally preparing for my work training. Planning my outfits to pack when they shipped me off to New York, hemming my pants, ironing shirts. Pretty domestic of me. So, thinking I should probably retrieve my nice black coat so I wouldn’t look like a bum, I went outside for the sole purpose of getting it from my car. My car, and the weather, had other plans. My car key only went halfway in the lock before the ice stopped it in its tracks. Shit. Moving to the other side of my car, to the “problematic” door, I tried the lock in that one. Went in completely, but wouldn’t turn. Double shit. Then I tried the trunk, knowing if I could pop the trunk and gracefully crawl through to the front and start my car, the locks might thaw.

No such luck was in the books for me. Yeah, I got the trunk open, but there’s a cardboard box of car parts and tools sitting in my backseat that effectively blocked my trunk from folding down more than an inch. Balls.

TWO DAYS of me periodically trying my key in the lock. Rubbing alcohol, heat, whatever the internet could give me the idea for. I tried it all. Nothing worked. As a last-ditch effort, I took a cab to Walmart so I wouldn’t freeze to death on the walk over, and bought a can of lock de-icer. An entire can sprayed in the lock and still no go.

The night before I left for NY, I spent hemming my work pants. Bad idea.

1. I’ve never hemmed before
2. Doing anything risky before a deadline is stupid.

Sure, I was using this fantastic item known as stitch witchery, so there wasn’t any actual cutting involved. Basically, I just needed to find the right length my pants should be, then iron on this stuff that sticks the layers together. It’s pretty simple, as long as you are paying attention. I got complacent after doing a pair perfectly, so complacent that when I tried on the next pair (post-stitch witchery) I realized I’d rolled the pant leg the wrong way. Incidentally, folding the nasty underside of the pants so that it was visible on the good side. I sat on my floor in the middle of the living room and cried.

Then, I waited for it to cool and, with a combination of tweezers and a Brillo pad, scraped off all the white remnants and did it again.

I ended up going to training in my fanciest work clothes, topped with a hooded sweatshirt.