The extended weekend

My trip to Boston was lovely and decadent, even in the blizzard.

But then, my very conscientious friend decided to move my car from its
perfect space in front of their apartment to a far off place. There
were signs not to park on their street during "snow emergency", but
no signs at the far-off location. Apparently, though, the main "arteries"
(code word for big streets) are off limits during major snow
accumulation (as any CT resident should know, EVEN without signs. I read signs, not minds, ya Boston piss-ants.)

So, my car was towed. Fuckers.

Sunday night we began calling tow companies and Boston city transportation to find my car, but were thwarted from finding out
anything useful. So at 6:59am Monday morning, I started again. Calls
and more calls to people who kept saying, "no, we don't have it." It was very disheartening and I was beginning to think that my car had been stolen.

Let me just record now for prosperity, my license plate is 509 TOL.
And the torture endured for not knowing that when it was lost....! (Yes,
I *did* just get a new license plate 2 weeks before, so my insurance
co. did not have it yet, but come on: I'm in MA and the plate's from
CT and I know every other spec on the car possible, including vin #.)
After 45 minutes of phone calls, it was finally determined that Phil's
towing had my car (even after specifically being told once that they
did not.) God, they were a collection of terrible, unwashed, unhappy
people. The obese secretary harassed me about my signiture (I was
forced to sign three times) and my friend was yelled at for 5 minutes
to move his car. Despite paying $85 for a tow and 2 days of storage
that I did not want, they argued with me for 5 minutes about not
helping me locate my car in their lot. The owner finally said: "Let's
get these people OUT of this office" and proceeded to help us locate
the car. A 2 inch square bit of blue (literally!) was visible, as it was
under a 7 foot snow drift. They said: "I hope you brought your
shovel." Yeah, bastards: I'm a fucking girlscout. The shovel's in
the trunk (i.e. completely inaccessible, but there.) I was crying at
this point, as I hawled my 4 travel bags and my 2-yr-old through the
2-ft deep snow (where I was lucky... it was deeper in many other
places.)

We got home. I shoveled out my driveway until my shovel broke.
I'm mostly recovered, but not heading North anytime soon.