Everydaystranger

*Warning! This is very much a “meh” post! Consider yourself waved off!*

Yesterday I had my last session of the year with my Couch Man. Halfway through the session we looked out the window to see massive, thick, “eat-your-face-off” sized snowflakes (because clearly snowflakes have gone mutant here) falling.

“Dude, it’s snowing,” I say, stating the bloody obvious.

“This is your doing,” he groaned. “You and your damn Christmas spirit!”

By the time the session had finished thick snow was accumulating. I had plans to see Twelfth Night (I’m such a fucking dork) that night, but by the time I got to Charing Cross station, I knew my evening was coming to an early end. They had closed the station and were chucking people out. No trains were running. I phoned home to find out that it was snowing like mad and that ice was predicted.

The Bard and I, we would not be hanging.

I made my way to Waterloo, to try to catch a train home. I had parked at a station with our blue car, which currently is under the weather, but needs must and mental health and all that. As I watched the board, I realized that all the trains to where I needed to go – Basingstoke – were delayed or cancelled. I finally got on a hideously packed train to Basingstoke, hoping to get home.

It was only later I found out why getting back to Basingstoke – and my stop is just a few stops before Basingstoke – was so bad. In the whole of the UK the hardest hit area of the country last night – and it was real chaos here – was Basingstoke. You know. Near where I live.

When I finally got to my station I was shocked at how much snow had fallen. In the space of a few hours there was about 6 inches of snow on the train platform. I made my way to the car, battled the snow off of it, and started to drive home. There was a multi-car accident at the exit of the station, so I had to go the long way around, through narrow country lanes. Narrow country lanes that had trees down, thick layers of ice, and no lighting.

On more than one occasion there I was, talking to myself with my knuckles white as snow and my jaw clenched, literally screaming to myself “Steer INTO the slide! Pump the brakes gently! Clutch, clutch goddammit! Steer INTO the slide!” I slid off the road a few times but managed to get through ok. Traffic was ferocious, and people were simply abandoning their cars. I finally got home, and my 5 mile journey took me over an hour and easily cost me years of my life.

This morning I had to take Maggie to the vet. She’s getting worse, not better, and the roads needed to be braved again. Remarkably the roads were much better this morning, so I got to the vet’s with no problem. Only when I arrived, it was simply me and one of the vets.

“None of my staff can make it!” she exclaimed miserably. “I can’t work the computers or the cash register and I have no one to answer the phones.” Said phones were ringing off the hook. Maggie was going ballistic in my arms. The vet got her vet hat on saw to her. My Maggie is at the vet’s all day, with more tests, and it’s now narrowed down to either two things – one of them can be treated. The other can’t. So we wait.

After dropping off Maggie I went to the Post Office to do battle. I had a very large parcel to post, and I had read the Royal Mail’s parcel rules online before going to the office. I squared my shoulders. I was ready.

“We can only post that if it will fit through the postal window,” said the civil servant curtly.

Said package would fit through the window only is Salvador Dali was in charge of the universe.

“Is there anything you can do?” I asked desperately. I had more roads to face and my cat was checked into the hospital. It is two days till Christmas and I wanted a long hot bath and a whole lot of tequila, not necessarily in that order.

They debated behind the counter. While they debated, I saw a list of names one of them had written on a piece of paper.

Sneezy
Doc
Bashful
Happy
Grumpy
Sleepy
?

I looked at it. It twigged.

“Dopey,” I said, looking at the women behind the counter.

“Dopey,” I replied again. “From your list. You’re missing the dwarf Dopey.”

The two women walked up to the counter and looked at the list. They looked at each other. They looked at me.

“We’ve been trying all morning to think of that name!” one of them exclaimed. She wrote “Dopey” on the list. “Thank you so much! Just for that, we’ll take your parcel!”

I never knew knowing all seven dwarves would save my bacon, but thank heaven for small wonders.

-S.