It's the first real snow storm of the season. Everyone was so excited. Everyone but me, that is. I am the sucker that agreed to "dump" at 6 AM at the radio station, and woke up this morning dreading the decision I would have to make. To dump or not to dump? That is the question.
My car is like a sardine can of a death trap. The wheels are balding, one of the headlights went out AGAIN, even though I just replaced it like last week (must be some electrical issue), and the break pads need to be changed soon. This really isn't the ideal vehicle to take me all the way to Fairfax in these precarious conditions. All that is bad enough in its own right, but when I thought about the fact that my reward for the arduous journey I would have to undertake is barely above minimum wage, I decided I couldn't in my right mind do that to myself. There's a dump button in the on-air studio, after all. They don't really NEED me. Maybe they can try to tone it down this morning with the sexual innuendo. These are scary times for everyone. No time for cheap laughs. I could very well be kissing my potential references and recommendations good-bye for this, but my defiant spirit says it's better to live reference-less but intact, than to die referred and mangled.
To punish myself for my pesky survival instincts and to prove to the universe that I am NOT being lazy and looking for a stolen day of sleeping in, I will stay up and watch Woody Allen movies on my Netflix instant viewing. "Mighty Aphrodite" - here I come!
New podcasts are up, by the way. Check them out.