Baby Driver - ow.

I didn't die driving to work this morning, which was nice. Yesterday I got out three and a half hours early and there were six inches of sandy slush on the roads and zero visibility. I drive an old four-cylinder Escort with unreliable brakes and bad tires. The drive home, which normally takes me less than fifteen minutes, took nearly half an hour.

My shoulders are killing me. I think it was from leaning over the steering wheel like a panicky granny-driver. Or possibly from flipping king-sized mattresses by myself all day today.

Either way: ow.

I want a massage.