As I pulled out of the parking lot from school, the steering wheel made an odd creaking sound. Like an old man bending down to pick up a pencil off the floor. I chalked it up to the cold and put it out of my mind. I’m creaky in the cold, so the car must be, too. I had a bag full of ungraded finals and a three page shopping list.

I bought preppy shirts for the boys and took them into Manhattan for Steve’s office party.

The next day, as I tucked presents for the kids’ teachers into their backpacks, I felt a lump in the back of my throat. I AM NOT SICK. I AM NOT SICK. Oh, that’s nothing.

I had a two hour cocktail party for the neighborhood, which turned into a seven hour party. The last guest left after I went to bed. The naughty neighborhood children trashed the upstairs of the house. The next day, we found our dresses and ties on the bottom of our closet, Jonah’s piggie bank had been robbed, and Steve’s computer icons had all been renamed "xoljskdjalkslfsdlkj."

The car sound got a little louder over the next few days. Even Jonah said something as I dropped him off at his Taikwondo practice with a box of minty chocolates for his teacher. "Why is the car making that sound, mom?" "IT’S NOTHING. IT’S JUST THE COLD." If you shout loud enough, you can convince yourself of anything.

On the 23rd, I shopped for the ingredients for Christmas Eve celebrations on the Shop Rite website. I sneezed ten times in a row. And printed out the holiday newsletter. And popped the boys’ slacks in the dryer.

On the 24th, we hosted Christmas Eve with the twelve fishy appetizers. Then set up Santa’s loot.

We woke up at 6 on the 25th to the sounds of kids shouting over new scooters and video games. I took some pictures and vaguely noticed feeling warm.

On the way to my mom’s house for dinner, Steve drove the car for the first time. "What is that sound?!!!" "Ignore it and it will go away." "NO, IT WON’T."

During dinner, I finally admitted defeat and took a nap on the sofa.

On the 26th, we dropped the creaky car at Jimmy’s, the car dude. He called later with the bad news of a broken steering column. $1,600. I went to Urgent Care with the kids in tow, where I had to wait for an hour for a 27 year old doctor to tell me what I already knew. I had a sinus infection.

Three parties later. I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. The car hasn’t returned yet, but the parts have been ordered. I am still picking up little pieces of wrapping paper from behind the sofa and the tree is seriously shedding.

Amy P has been sending links to debt bloggers. I knew that there were a few bloggers that wrote about their adventures finding their way out of debt (and begging for handouts), but I wasn’t aware that there was a whole subculture of debt-bloggers. Amy feels more sympathy for them than I do. Who the hell racks up $50,000 in credit card debt? I know there are a whole lot of families in big trouble because they got those adjustable rate mortgages, but I can’t help but question their judgment. Didn’t everyone tell them they were insane?

I suppose they also must have heard the rumblings and the creaks and the aches of upcoming disaster and said "ignore it and it will go away."