I leave my house at 7:10am and see that my car windows are coated with frost. In most parts of California, frost is as foreign as fire is to fish. I step into the freezer that is my car and turn on the engine. While it’s warming, I try to defrost my windows by spraying the window cleaning liquid, but alas, I’m Humanities and don’t realize that pouring water onto a frozen surface only makes things worse. I witness the process of snowflakation — where water turns to ice. And I drive off visually impaired, trusting my sixth sense of direction. Before hitting the freeway, my windows are cleared and I drive to work in one piece. I had hoped my classroom to be at the usual steaming temperature, but the school had turned off the heater during the long weekend and my room is an igloo. Teaching and learning screams pain at freezing temperatures.
Many hours have passed and I’m at home, at my desk, my fingers half-frozen even with an area-heater at my side.
For now, I have Christmas music, peppermint mocha, and the memory of central heating to keep me warm.