So right now, much of the northeastern US is getting walloped with massive snow. The Lair itself will probably see between two and three feet before it's over.
Fortunately, Lagniappe and I missed it because we aren't there. In fact, we spent last night sleeping on a beach, listening to the ocean waves come onto the shore.
Now before you get too jealous, I need to refer to my oft-stated maxim here when it comes to poor decisions and the cost of being stupid--it's supposed to leave a mark. Sooner or later, the stupid fairy pays a visit on every one of us and we do something that we wish later we had not done. I'm not exempt by any measure, and last night was my night to regret a bad decision. It all began with the decision to drive my (non-4WD) van onto the beach late at night in search of a secluded and free campsite.
All went well for a while and we drove along the beach, Lagniappe and I. We found a great parking spot and settled in. But then when I went to re-position the van to lessen a wind that was making just a bit too much noise, the drive wheel dug in and we were stuck.
Oh, I gave it a hell of an effort to get out. I dug, I graded, I moved a ton of sand, but with every attempt to rock out, the van just settled lower, until finally it was just resting on it's frame. Damn. Finally, I accepted defeat and hiked up to a nearby house that had some lights on and asked for help. They gave my the number of the local towing service that specializes in extracting stuck vehicles from the sand and I called them; they were willing to come out, but their rate was ridiculous.
The man there told me that their night rate was about double their daylight rate. "Fine," I told him. Let's make an appointment for your earliest day-rate time. Just come out in the morning. I'll still be here." I then went back to the half-buried van and made myself comfortable, drinking beer and watching a movie on my DVD player before finally calling it a night and hitting the hay.
And at 0730 in the AM, I got a wake-up call as Lagniappe alerted on an approaching vehicle, letting me know that the tow truck was on scene. Five minutes later, I was back on my way down the beach towards town again, having paid out about what I'd have spent on a night in a (cheap) motel room for the extrication. And the tow-truck driver had let me know that beach-driving is typically done successfully only by people with four-wheel-drive vehicles, lest I be tempted to give it another whack.
Ah well... I'm lighter in the wallet because I didn't think but at least I got to fall asleep under the stars to the sound of the ocean and Lagniappe got to chase seagulls all over the place for a while. Motel Six has got nothing on that.