Skinning the squirrel

You may or may not know that my boss, Smither, taped a photo of a little kid skinning a squirrel to my door a few weeks ago. While gross, it's a pretty good metaphor for any business day.

Sometimes I am the squirrel.

Sometimes I am the kid.

Sometimes I am the knife.

(And so on.)

So Saturday I felt like the squirrel. More after the jump...

The plane never came. Our flight was cancelled. After much scrambling and heaving about from terminal to terminal (why do all airports sound like advanced cancer) we finally made it to Omaha. Then rented a car to get to Sioux City to pick up Greg's car. Then back to Sioux Falls. And all the while they kept announcing, "Final boarding for Cancun!" Or, "Final boarding for Key West!"

But the good news is we arrived home safely, blizzard and associated tragedies averted, another night at the Crystal Meth Inn ducked, and our new client (hopefully) impressed at least a little.

PAR FOR THE COURSE: When I got home, after 30 minutes of scraping cars/digging out in the office parking lot, 13 hours into the day, the driveway was snowed in (the plow had come by) and I had to call Tim from the street. He said, "Where are you?" I said, wearily, "Outside." He said, "What are you doing out there?" I said, "I don't know."

But I wanted to kill him for about half a second.

So close and yet so far... (He immediately came out to shovel.)