One crisis to the next

Those were David Love's words about my week, and they weren't even that bad of crises. But he and his whole family didn't know what they were getting when I moved in upstairs. **Warning: long post to follow!**

Wednesday:
Well, first I overslept, and then I flooded my bathroom, but that's nothing new now. The real issue was that I had a dead car battery. Praise the Lord I discovered it this day rather than 2 days later when I would've needed it more urgently. David tried to jumpstart my car with his, but that did squat. So we had to call roadside assistance, and they were able to do it. Turns out, both our cars have ancient batteries that need replacing. Mine I couldn't turn off again, so I drove straight to a car garage in Binzen (12 min away). They were able to get a new one in a jiffy, but it was a strange experience because they never stopped to ask me what I wanted or if I had a preference on anything or even if I wanted to upgrade the newest whoha and latest whatchamathing. But I did drive out of there in one piece. Hooray!

Thursday:
My entire day of proctoring was fraught with mini student crises including wrong tests, missing tests, and missing students. So it was a day of long stretches of monotonous writing interrupted by moments of frantic, high-stress panic.
Then when I got home, a man showed up at my door, claiming he was here to take away my garbage can. Come again, I said. Yeah, he said, since I was technically and officially a part of the Love family household, I shouldn't have my own garbage can. (Now, the back story is that we have to keep our garbage cans up on the terrace on the 4th floor. So, in order to be able to carry them down 3 flights of stairs every Monday, they need to be smaller and lighter. We can't do one big one.) So I begged and pleaded with the man to keep my garbage can. David Love came out too and begged and pleaded with me. The kind man finally relented, but I did have to make several phone calls to the Waste Removal people of Kandern.

Friday:
My parents sold my little car Sylvester back in Colorado, and the title arrived this day. I was supposed to sign it and send it back via FedEx IMMEDIATELY. Well, the closest FedEx office, according to the Internet, was at the airport in France. Fortunately, I had to drive to the train station in Switzerland anyway, and the two are close (go figure). However, I didn't anticipate that I would have to find the freight terminal, ask a stranger with the thickest accent imaginable where the FedEx office was only to understand zip, give up my passport in exchange for a barcoded badge, go through heavily guarded gates, walk among freight trucks and burly-looking men, squeeze through a tiny door, climb the fire escape stairwell and try every single floor looking for FedEx, only to find French-speaking people at every turn. Finally, I located the office where they begrudgingly took care of my mailing needs, and I got my coveted passport back into my clutching fingers in no time.

Saturday:
I had arranged with some friends that we'd go to a big Christmas market on the Saturday after school got out - yesterday. We didn't bank on the fact that it would be 10 degrees. "Bah," I said, that's nothing compared to MN winters. So, we bundled into my car, and I drove us to the historic Christmas town of Colmar, France. I also hadn't banked on the notion that I'd have to park really far away from the Christmas market. We found it just fine, and we all did quite well the whole first hour, but then the wind picked up. And what I forgot was that 10 degrees (colder with wind) in MN was fine and dandy because I ran from the house to my car, and the car to work, and then work back to the car, and then into my house. I didn't spend 2-3 hours wandering around outside in it. All that to say, I was in such agony when we got back to the car. I was sure I'd lost at least half my toes to frostbite and could feel nothing below my knees.
I cranked the heat the entire way back (45 min) and never warmed up. Back in my apartment, I quickly exchanged the wet clothes for dry ones and threw myself onto the floor with my feet on the radiator, and experienced one of the strangest sensations ever: my entire body would be racked with uncontrollable shivers, and it'd pause, and then it'd go again, and I couldn't stop. My apartment just was not heating up fast enough, so I went downstairs where Catherine Love tucked me into blankets and got me some tea. It took a full 30 minutes before I stopped shivering and another hour and a half before I STARTED to feel warm again. I'm dubbing it "my brush with death" and have decided hypothermia would be an awful way to die.

There are my adventures of the week. Some are from my stupidity and some are things I just didn't have to deal with as an MK in Europe before but do have to now as an M. Life's never boring, that's for sure!