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December 20, 2006
Weather in my Cap
The news just said DIA would probably remain closed until tomorrow evening. Granted, all of the highways are shut but I'm thinking...how difficult would it be to DRIVE home tomorrow?
The idea of spending Christmas alone is just about the most depressing thing ever. The only place I want to be right now is in my family's kitchen, glowering and dropping acerbic, flippant remarks and unwarranted insults just like they've come to expect nay love. It really wouldn't be the holidays for any concerned without at least one door slam, several hours spent facedown on my bed weeping about how no one understands my torment [Musical Cue: Tool "Undertow"]. Generally calmed down by a social call, I like to round out the evening with some serious vodka/soda pounding at the local watering hole, a dangerous - yet highly forgettable - ride home and a night spent passed out on the bathroom floor. If I do make it to my bed, the next morning tends to dawn early as my room is basically wired for sound to the kitchen and also lit and heated in a manner similar to the equator. Stumbling downstairs with murder on the mind, I realilze again that the only way to banish memories of the hours preceding and following last call involves a cocktail of Vicodin, 18 cups of coffee, two fried eggs (courtesy of Mom) and several hours reading the NY Times crossword to my Dad and assuring him that despite his lack of success with the genre, he's still the smartest guy I know. Well, give or take. Add to that a couple of spirited shouting matches with my brother, a long shower, 17,000 cookies, a freakout about how fat I am and a seven-mile run and you've got my typical ho-day.
It's my favorite time of year.
I want to go home.
I can't miss this; I love it too much.
That's it.
Hell or high water trousers: I'm a coming.
Posted by Bree at December 20, 2006 06:18 PM