How to screw up a perfectly nice weekend in two easy steps:

1. Hit a patch of ice.
   
2. Hit a guard rail.
   

I'm fine, and the car is semi-fine. I was able to drive it home and to work today, but it's going to need some fairly ex(t/p)ensive repairs. The passenger's side headlight cover is destroyed, and the fender cover will have to go as well. Basically, a lot of plastic will need to be replaced. This could have been a lot worse--I was able to slow to 10-15 mph, I wasn't subsequently rammed, and I was about 5 miles from home and a nice old lady let me stay in her kitchen while my dad drove out to the scene even though it was midnight.

I'm not sure what the lessons are here. In part I'm happy that I'm OK and that my dad is being so great to me--coming out to help, and dealing with the insurance and repair issues since he's a veteran of this sort of thing. On the other hand, I either have to beg money from relatives or pretty much wipe out the money I've been saving toward moving--neither of which is a happy prospect, though again I'm lucky that the former is a legitimate option. AND, it was already becoming clear to me and is now crystal clear that I just don't like winter. For a while now I've thought that I would stay in the East for several years and maybe in 5-10 years settle in L.A. I'm increasingly sure that I'm going to speed up that timetable. So I guess this is a moment of clarity in addition to being a big ol' pain in the ass. Why does it seem like everything that's happened to me for about a year now has been a cloud, at best with a silver lining, and nothing is ever a blue sky?