It is a short trip back from the nursing home, but last night I came out to find my car frozen shut. After repeated gentle, but frigid, attempts, the back passenger door opened, so I climbed in and over the console. The windshield had giant blobs of ice on it and I lied to myself about there being a scrapper (Mar. 25: ACK, I meant scraper) on the passenger side floor.
I just sat behind the wheel and shuddered while the car warmed up and the defroster convinced the windshield to shed the ice. Had I looked in my rearview mirror at myself, I would have seen the word PMIW.