I went out, dug around the car a bit, and tried to move it. No good. I got out and hacked away some more. I rolled down the window and leaned out to see if the front wheel could gain any purchase. No, still no good. I turned off the car, gave up, and went inside.
I passed a lovely evening uploading photos and watching Battlestar Galactica, starting with the miniseries. It’s the bomb. I was wary about watching Yet Another Lone Starship™ series, like the sometimes good (but usually not) Star Trek: Voyager, the insipid and trite Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda, or the impotent and mercifully forgotten Star Trek: Enterprise. I mean, space station shows are usually pretty good – Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Babylon 5 are both worth watching in their entireties. I haven’t watched very much of BSG yet, but it looks awesome, and Jammer (whom I’ve trusted for Trek reviews for twelve years) gives it consistently good reviews. I don’t think it’s too much to say that BSG is the show that Trek fans have been waiting for. I know such language was used as a promotional quote for Titan A.E., saying it was the movie that Star Wars fans had been waiting for. That’s not even close to being true. In this case, I mean it and think it’s true – although to be quite honest, Trek fans are really waiting for a Star Trek that’s actually good. I don’t know if it’ll ever happen, though, because of the sheer weight of the continuity that’s been established – there’s so much that’s been plotted out that there’s no room to breathe anymore, and the writers used time travel so much in Voyager and Enterprise that the entire history of the Trek universe seems contrived, meaningless and irrelevant anyway.
I went to bed and got to sleep.
This morning around 9:30, Aunt Shirley came to my door. “Sorry to disturb you… It looks like Grandma’s car window is open.”
Honestly, if they gave awards for stupidity and carelessness, I’d get first prize. I swept away the crust on the doorframe and cranked the window shut (fortunately they’re the manual kind). Then I began the laborious process of wiping (with my mitts), sweeping (with a snowbrush, especially the seats), and scooping the snow up and pitching it out.
After a while, I’d gotten most of it out, so I turned the car on and cranked up the heater and blower to get the rest. I let it run for nearly two hours, so I expect at least ten angry postcards from the World Wildlife Fund. Anyway, that did the trick – the inside of the car is dried out, and now all I have to do is wait for the next warm day or some other able-bodied relative to make an appearance (I've tried pushing it by myself, but it is stuck too fast for a single person to push out), and I’ll have wheels again. That is, if Grandma doesn’t take them away. =)