I'm done.

Yaris was t-boned yesterday by some fool pulling out of his driveway. I couldn't stop because of the slippery roads, so I brake... Slide... Lay on the horn... And yet still, he continues out of his drive, watching me the entire time, and slams into dearest Little Y.

This makes it offish:

I am officially over winter.

I don't want to think about it anymore. Do you hear me?! I'M SICK OF WINTER!

I'm sick of shoveling out my car; of wearing boots; of having wet pant legs; of dealing with dry skin; of scraping my windows; of slow traffic; of snuffly noses; of getting stuck in snow banks and having to reverse/drive/reverse/drive until I can get out; of not being able to run; of hearing my brakes make that crunch-grind sound as I slide towards an intersection; of sweaters; of the heat in my apartment; of static; of running out of windshield washer fluid; of not being able to get to my BBQ because the snow has piled up inside my patio and I don't have a shovel to make a path.

I'm sick of it.

Go. AWAY.

Now.

p.s. I'm offish in a bad mood, arriving late to work because once again, my car was stuck and I had to accost some old lady to lend me a shovel, and because EVERYONE is driving as slow as poured molasses.