Monday, December 22, 2008
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
It took me about five and a half hours to drive across the state to my parents' house yesterday. Now, I know what you're thinking -- you didn't even know that there was five and a half hours worth of Illinois available to drive across -- and normally it is true that it would not take quite this long. But I was driving in a wind so strong it slammed the car door in my face at Arby's, which slowed me down a bit. And there was snow blowing everywhere, which meant I couldn't tell if that white Taurus behind me was a cop or just someone with really bad taste in automobiles. Oh, and it was so cold that my windshield wiper fluid actually froze to my windshield in two big Pollockesque blotches and I had to stop at the Stop N Go to clean it off. Winter travel is, in fact, the finest.
I arrived to find my family struggling to assemble our artificial Christmas tree, largely because my father had decided he didn't want to bother with matching the branches by size before inserting them. This had resulted into a bit of a Frankentree, or what you would imagine Christmas must look like on the Island of Dr. Moreau, although without Marlon Brando in a mumu. Once that situation had been remedied, we had a lovely quiet evening, interrupted only periodically by my cries of triumph over my various Facebook Scramble wins.
Overnight, however, the situation transformed dramatically as one of our dogs decided to bark literally all night long. I don't know if it was from the excitement of having everyone back in the house or just generally from hating us, but it was a fairly sleepless night. Or, okay, well, I'm lying. It was a sleepless night for my parents and my sister; up on the second floor I heard almost nothing and got a full eight hours. But everyone was cranky today as a result, so clearly I am a victim, too. For God's sake, why won't you let me be a victim?
It took me about five and a half hours to drive across the state to my parents' house yesterday. Now, I know what you're thinking -- you didn't even know that there was five and a half hours worth of Illinois available to drive across -- and normally it is true that it would not take quite this long. But I was driving in a wind so strong it slammed the car door in my face at Arby's, which slowed me down a bit. And there was snow blowing everywhere, which meant I couldn't tell if that white Taurus behind me was a cop or just someone with really bad taste in automobiles. Oh, and it was so cold that my windshield wiper fluid actually froze to my windshield in two big Pollockesque blotches and I had to stop at the Stop N Go to clean it off. Winter travel is, in fact, the finest.
I arrived to find my family struggling to assemble our artificial Christmas tree, largely because my father had decided he didn't want to bother with matching the branches by size before inserting them. This had resulted into a bit of a Frankentree, or what you would imagine Christmas must look like on the Island of Dr. Moreau, although without Marlon Brando in a mumu. Once that situation had been remedied, we had a lovely quiet evening, interrupted only periodically by my cries of triumph over my various Facebook Scramble wins.
Overnight, however, the situation transformed dramatically as one of our dogs decided to bark literally all night long. I don't know if it was from the excitement of having everyone back in the house or just generally from hating us, but it was a fairly sleepless night. Or, okay, well, I'm lying. It was a sleepless night for my parents and my sister; up on the second floor I heard almost nothing and got a full eight hours. But everyone was cranky today as a result, so clearly I am a victim, too. For God's sake, why won't you let me be a victim?
