I don't get holidays. While I understand the need for time off and ritual in the abstract, each particular holiday confuses me. What makes the 4th Thursday in November different from the 3rd one? Why should I feel worse about working December 25th than December 24th. Even New Years Day says a lot more about the human need to find patterns in things (looking back on a 365 day period and expecting to find a unified theme) than anything else. So I've been walking around lately, going bah humbug and otherwise annoying people.
Today the skies opened. Not for a typical Seattle snowfall of an inch or something. Today we would be buried. Around 10 AM it occured to us that closing Seanet might be a good idea; I was out of there by noon. Since we left while the snow had momentarily turned into freezing rain, we actually had an advantage. Strategically planning our journey from the 68th floor (In other words noticing that I-5 was a parking lot), we blew off the bus tunnel and quickly found a 70 bus to the U District. On it, I plotted out some perl scripts with one of my coworkers for his page.
Around 1 I got home. I looked around again and mildly freaked out. It's 1 PM and I'm home. I went on IRC a bit, watched the Superfriends, and then wandered out. I had a few errands to run before leaving for Philly; all of a sudden I had the time to do it.
When I walked The Ave (University Way, the road with all of the stores on it near my apt) I noticed that things were as quiet as yesterday, but this time there was a reason. Why was Tower closing at 6? Because if they didn't, they'd be sleeping there. Sure the city was shut down, but it was more enjoyable. Every store that was open was a little thrill, and as for the ones that were closed, well I was playing hooky too. By tomorrow, I'm going to be cursing at the white stuff, but for today the snow, and the breather it gave me, is to be enjoyed.