In a fit of foresight and organization, I went outside this afternoon to disinter the Jeep from its icy cocoon.

I haven’t driven it since the ice storm(s) and snow, so it was basically frozen to the ground and entombed in ice with a blanket of snow.

I had to kick the handle several times before I could get the door open. I started it up, put the defrost on full blast, and then went into the shed and plugged in the compressor.

I went inside and shifted laundry from one machine to the other. Then I put on a pair of jeans.

I went back outside and filled the Jeep’s flat tire with air, then unplugged the comressor and tossed the air hose back into the shed.

I moved the car about ten feet, and I even had to do it in 4WD: back, then forward again about a foot to the right of where it had been frozen to the ground. I did this for no good reason other than it seemed seemly to unstick it from the icy puddles it had been sitting in.

I took our old blue plastic-bristled utility broom and went to attack the Jeep. I swept snow off of it, scratched huge chunks of ice off of it. At some point I was removing old snow so vigourously that I broke the old broom handle in half. “Damn!” I exclaimed, surprized at my herculean effort, then matter-of-factly used the pointy end to scrape ice off of the windshield wipers. I inspected all the windows and door handles for ice. The Jeep was clean and in working order.

Finally, satisfied that I’d work-prepped my car and wouldn’t have to do much more in the morning other than turn it on, I turned it off and headed for the house.

I heard a splattering sound. It sounded like a race horse peeing. I turned back from the door and squatted so I could see under the Jeep, and damn if it wasn’t just busily pouring a few gallons of antifreeze right on the ground.

THAT’LL teach me to try and have an organized morning.