Eight: A Poison High

Today was not going to be a good day. Why would it be? I woke up at 11:30 this morning to find the world lost in about 20 centimeters, a mark that would expand by about 10 by the end of the day. I went down to have a shower, and as is often the case, found the faucet unresponsive. I cursed fate and muttered around the house. I was trapped inside and would have to use my mom's lower-pressure shower upstairs. Boo-hoo right? It was a Sunday and I was restless, looking for any reason to complain.

I had been bored into a coma the night before and didn't intend to spend my day that way either. I was already bouncing off the walls. So I left the house and set out on only the second most ill-advised excursion of my life, the first being this past Valentine's Day. And I survived that just fine.

Using the powershovel - an intriguing contraption my mom picked up but feared didn't work - I carved out a little pathway and did my share of driveway-shoveling before dropping everything and heading off.

In near-whiteout conditions, I sauntered down the road, walking in the tracks of bygone cars, keeping my head just high enough to see if one was oncoming. Eventually I arrived at the mall. There wasn't any particular reason for going. I mostly wanted to defy nature and common sense, and was successful. For good reason, the place was decidedly deserted for a December weekend. Normally you'd be shouldering your way through a throng of clamoring shoppers. On this day, very few were able to get out of their driveways, and fewer still was stupid enough to do so.

So all I really did was grab some lunch and browse around abit before returning. Had I had my wits about I would have done more Christmas shopping, but there you have it. I'm actually not in too much of a Christmas mood lately. When asked for suggestions for gifts I gave a half-hearted rundown of the usual items.

I've discussed this before but this being the season, I figured I'd renew it. I'm not a fan of Christmas music. Almost all the way across the board, Christmas songs are prone to awkward lyrics, overly peppy tunes or else overly sentimental, and the singers almost always sound lame. I can understand why it's that way - it is Christmas after all - but it's just not my style and I don't find it pleasant to listen to. The one exception is a song written by a man I despise, "It's Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" written by Phil Spector, originally performed by Darlene Love (numerous covers have been released of varying quality, probably the best being by U2.)

I got home to find the guys finishing the job I'd started and abandoned. The afternoon passed in quiet distraction. I felt good for most of the day, really, after getting home and warming up a tad. Once my skin regained elasticity, I mean. I don't know if this is even possible, but I had a good moment, just a good moment, sitting here playing Spider Solitaire and listening to The Solids. Little things like that sometimes stay with you.

Let the moments stay. You may enjoy them later.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott