Let's quickly review.
Friday, it started snowing and I took a ghost train (i.e., empty 'cept for me) home from work to my sequestered cabin in suburbia.
Ghost train! Boo! Scary!
Saturday, I did two shoveling shifts until the piles were as high as I was. The entire neighborhood was out and chipping at their individual piles. We live on a hill so our pile put other people's piles to shame. Not that it's a contest, but we won.
I noticed my shoveling style involves pausing between every scoop to introspect on my direction, purpose, and progress in life. I wish I was joking. It's called Kierkegaard's Big Picture Method of Shoveling.
Sunday, I did one shoveling shift and did some snow drawings in case any weary travelers lost their way and needed to find signs of civilization (and were too delirious to notice the house, car, garage, or driveway).
The abominable snowman's crotch is messed up. I'm sorry about that.
Other than that, I've been undergoing a wholesome regimen of consuming literature and film and Internet and gourmet refrigerator delights such as a courtesy sweet potato loaf of bread from our neighbor because my mom helped her shovel her driveway (It's getting extremely Little House on the Prairie in these parts).
My parents and I have been hobbling around like arthritic hobbits because of shoveling rheumatism, occasionally pausing to vacuum or do a load of laundry or dishes. Ours is an industrious society.
Tomorrow, my physical work office is closed, but the virtual office is open. Hello? The future? I'm just returning your call!
This has been a vague but timely synopsis. Toodle loo!