I think it finally stopped snowing. They've reported 20.5 inches for Arlington, the highest for the month of December since 1932 [NOTE: Another report places the old record in 1964. Whatever ...].
I've spent most of today writing, shoveling snow, and moving the parol to the front door while moving the wiring around to accommodate it. And now I'm sitting here, drinking a nice hot apple cider with a shot of Irish whiskey, while Sal is watching some "chick movie" -- in this case, "Enchanted" starring Amy Adams and Patrick Dempsey. They're doing the big musical scene now. It's in Central Park, naturally.
I feel so ... domesticated.
Paul is working at Wonderland tonight -- he's there when he's not at the Looking Glass Lounge -- and he says it's really crowded there. This is a shot he took of what appears to be Georgia Avenue in uptown DC. I wonder what it is that makes some people see a night like this as an excuse to go out on the town. Maybe they're more carefree than I am. Or maybe, as Paul says: "People will go to great lengths to get drunk, especially when it's cold outside."
But I think it's something else.
The idea of being confined is so ... confining. When I was a boy, and I was feeling down, I'd get on my bike and run all over Milford until I felt better. I never lost that urge to take to the road. Maybe my next car should have four-wheel drive. Maybe a Subaru Outback, an SUV that's not so overbearing. After all, it's not like I expect to be seen in a Hummer, right?
Maybe next winter.