I'm Crazy Strong

I recently switched up, yet again, my weekly schedule at Sbux. Originally I was working Monday night, Thursday night, and one weekend day...but the Madeira Farmer's Market (on Thursday evenings) was making my life a living hell, so I switched to Wednesday nights! Ah, Wednesday nights, they're usually boring and virtually uneventful...just the way I like it! Then, I worked a freak open shift one Sunday morning after one of our baristas didn't come into work the night before (and, thus, fired)...leaving the schedule all kinds of jacked up. And I really enjoyed it, the opening shift I mean! Sure, I had to get up around 4am so I could make it into Sbux before 5:30am (we open at 6am on Sundays), but then I got out at 11:30am and had the rest of the day to do stuff! It was pretty sweet, and when I told my boss that I liked opening we kind of decided to make it a permanent thing! So now I work Sunday opens from 5:30am to 11:30am. Sure, it gets busy around 8 or 9am, but the first couple hours are a breeze and then pretty much the whole day is mine!

So, getting to the story...this past Saturday it snowed here in Cincinnati and the temperature got really low overnight. After I got ready for Sbux I went out to my car, around 5am, to start it so it could warm up. I pushed my little button thingy to unlock my doors (yes, even though my car is nearly two decades old I still have a fancy remote thingy). I go to the drivers side and pull on the handle. I can tell the door is frozen shut, but not too bad, so I pull a little harder. And. SNAP!! The door handle breaks off into my hand! I stand there, in the cold, baffled...with door handle in hand. I utter a couple of swear words, but not under my breath and walk to the passenger side to start my car.

Here's what my car door looked like before the snapping off:

Actually, this is my passenger door (after the fact), because I didn't have a photo of my driver's side door just lying around. Because, frankly that would be weird!

And this is the "after" picture:

Grrr!

I have come to the conclusion that my car is either trying to psychologically mindf#@k me until I stop driving it or I've got crazy strong, almost superhuman, strength at five in the morning. I'm going to go with the latter, considering I already have superhuman knee caps. Seriously, I think my patellas are made of steel! If I justify it as superhuman strength then I won't have to stress that we can't afford to get me a new car for another year, so if Arthur (my car) decides to die on me now...there's not a flippin' thing I can do about it! What, stress?! Anxiety!? What do those words mean?! I have no clue!