My flight landed last night at eleven-thirty. Thirty minutes to wait for my checked bag. Forty-five minutes to wait for the airport parking lot shuttle. Thirty minutes scraping ice from my windows. I broke both of my ice scrapers. I took the broken end in my hand and used it some more, but it kept breaking until there was virtually nothing left. Then I had to finish the job with just the stick part. Then over an hour and a half to make the 50-mile drive home on poorly plowed roads. In bed at three. Left the house at seven-thirty this morning to walk a half-mile to my bus stop. Fourteen degrees outside. Snowing. Unshoveled sidewalks. Working ten hours on a holiday.
So, as you might understand, I don't feel like doing a damned thing today. We'll see how long I can get away with that.