Beware the Chattering Cyclops

Well, after digging out a path through the parking lot for my wee little car, and then having four very strong men (three of whom appeared randomly at exactly the right time) push while I rocked the clutch in order to escape from the aggressive puddle at the end of the drive, the snow plow came. I had already missed work, so I headed home for what is technically the birth of our savior but is more, practically speaking, a fake tree and a gift exchange.

There was the normal punching, yelling, baking, barking, and general rowdiness that apparently nobody is going to grow out of. This was the second year in a row we've had snow, which was certainly a nice touch, but it all felt so commercial leading up to the day itself that it was hard to feel like it was real.

Going home so often feels like waiting for a very exciting train that never shows up. Though it's not as bad as that makes it sound.