Last night I had to scrape ice off of my car, the kind of ice that is thick and clear and really hard to break through to start scraping. It wasn't too bad (it was a slippery walk to the car, but that's more along the lines of those "embarrassing stories I don't like to tell" kinds of things), although I did break my ice scraper, one of those heavy-duty-also-has-a-brush-attached ones. And as I stood there with my broken ice scraper, I realized that I am a victim of Karma.
When I was younger, I had great fun riding in my mom's warm, dry van on snowy mornings, pointing out the cars that were unfortunate enough not to have been in a garage.
Oh, oh how I deserve every moment of cold mornings I've experienced since I started driving. I deserve those days of using an old cd case to make a little window to see, and the ones when I had to pray my little Ranger would make it out of the driveway. And I deserved standing there last night, two pieces of dead ice scraper in my hands.
Do not take your garages for granted.
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