Bits, pieces, shits, grins

There is, for some inexplicable reason, a giant flood light that washes out cars from behind at our turnpike entrance. It's quite unnerving, as it feels like a giant semi is about to end up in our trunk. This setup is, however, good for some sick-ass humor, like my wife stating tonight that she "felt all Karen Silkwood."

She's a bitch, she is.

Our public works department is vacant. We were told on the phone that absolutely there would be Christmas tree pickup today. What did we find still sitting on the snow bank next to my driveway? Fuckers. On the other hand, I managed to get our tree lights back into their original packaging with nary a tangle. Recompense comes in all forms.

No alarm and no cleaning tomorrow. I'm in favor. Maybe I'll recover my ability to write updates...