Here's a whirlwind synopsis of the last few days -

Sunday Spent getting belongings out of my poor little Sebring in case it was totalled. You haven't laughed until you've seen a guy in a wheelchair carrying another wheelchair. Like a bad clown routine. I should take it on the road.

Monday Worked from home in order to get the rental car arranged. "Hand controls" must sound like "Hot Muppet Love" to people because they clearly don't understand what I'm talking about.

I finally track down a car at Enterprise and it's in stock only two blocks from my building. Sweet! I tell the guy that I'm walking down there. I get outside and it's literally 20 degrees. When I get to the Enterprise office there are 1.5 billion steps. The guy I spoke with comes out and tells me "Oops! There's no accessible way in. You can stay here and I'll process your paperwork." He leaves me outside for forty minutes. I'm not exaggerating. I was livid but too numb and frostbit to express it. I get in the gigantic Intrepid and immediately go get coffee.

Tuesday Off to the city. I can't park at the train station because the rental boat doesn't have wheelchair tags. I decide to call a cab. I wait 30 minutes for a cab to take me what I could have walked in 15 minutes. Nice way to start the day.

I pull out my hair at the client's site (Note to John - No offense. You have to agree that those two days were excruciating. Note to everyone else - John is my pal at this client site who also reads the ol' blog) and then go have a splendiferous meal at Candle Cafe which was inhabited, inexplicably, by man wearing a giant peapod suit. It is a vegan restaurant but that, well, was weird.

Got back to Stamford to experience the Running Of The Cabs. Thirty cabs lined up and people literally running off the train to get one. I lost. I walked home.

Wednesday Back to the city. Decide to walk to the station. Much better idea. More pain at John's. Get out to find that it is not only freezing cold outside but it's also raining. I mean, it's just pouring. Pretty miserable. Walk about 10 blocks before I can find a cab. Find the best damn cabbie ever - he's had his Hack License since, get this, 1964. His number is like 00007453. Insane. Oh, and his name is Johnny Smallwood. The twelve year-old in me loved that, too.

Thursday Back in Connecticut. Get police report, work too late, etc...