What is this strange ritualistic dance?
This morning, driving to work, I saw many of my fellow Californians doing something odd…strange…weird….and yet, it felt vaguely familiar.
Yes, I passed the residential roads of my neighborhood and saw my fellow citizens by their cars…behaving oddly.
Some were using credit cards.
Others slapping with a newspaper.
One using just his bare hands.
All looked out of place.
Seems we had some low temps last night and these poor Californians were having to actually scrape the frost off their windshields.
I was never so happy for being able to park my car in the garage!
Oh I have scraped many a windshield in my day. Oh yes indeed.
I *hate* it.
Living in mile high Albuquerque, it was even worse when it snowed. So you’d brush off the snow, and THEN have to tackle the frost. Usually in my nice work clothes and high heels…in the wet and the mud. Boo!
Here, I don’t even own an ice scraper. I threw it away somewhere around year 2 post move. Don’t need it.
Clearly, no one else around here owns one either. The guy slapping his window with a newspaper gave me the most giggles. Beating the ice into submission? That is SO not going to work.
Thankfully it was a light frost and really, just starting up the car and getting the defroster going for several minutes would probably clear it up.
But the perplexed looks and utter consternation. That was good comedy as I sailed by in my warm, garage parked Jeep.
