We were supposed to get all sorts of nasty weather last night, leading me to the hopes that I might not have to go to work this morning. When I awoke I was disappointed to find that, not only had we not gotten several feet of snow, indeed it appeared that some of the snow previously on the ground had gone back up. Fortunately, the ice storm did eventually appear, just in time for my evening commute home.
Faith and I went Christmas shopping at the mall on Sunday, an act of selflessness on my part that I don't think that she fully understood. For some people, the mall at the holidays is a chaotic mess; a sea of people to wade through in an annoying effort to get that last Webkinz reindeer. For me it is a walk through a very real hell - every step a sea of tortured souls reaching out with lifeless hands in an attempt to steal my essence. If, somehow, the mall were to collapse in upon itself in a pile of rubble, burying us all beneath stone and steel, you might well have heard me give a great sigh of relief, like a man who was walked 100 miles might give upon finally sitting down. Alas, this did not happen, and I have copy of "My Life as Ernest: The Lessons of Jim Varney" in paperback to prove that I survived the trip. Someday perhaps she will understand the great gesture of love that this effort represented. Until that day though, we will have to rely on Vern for guidance.
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