I regretfully bailed on my planned New Years party last night (Sorry J, I really did want to be there) because all the weathermen were predicting Snowpocalypse ’08 (upwards of 9″ expected), the party was way the hell on the other side of town, and I knew my stick-boy muscles would be called upon to clear a path to Grandmother’s House this morning.
You can, of course, guess what happened: I woke up to about a half-inch of slushy, already-melting snow. Thanks, Mr. Weatherman.
On the other hand, spending New Years Eve drinking by myself at home is probably an accurate forecast of the year to come.
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