*Of course* ... the day that looked the most like Christmas came three days later, by way of dawn snow like shredded pillows, wafting its way down. Cleaning things up nicely. Even Division, which most mornings is more of a scar than a street, looked like it was populated by human beings.
The day before had been mild but ugly, all the city's garbage with nowhere to hide, wet and glaring, and even the old drunk who I surprised pissing against the downstairs door to the studio seemed mildly embarrassed by the contradiction of mild sunshine in the sky and the styrofoam takeaway containers in the gutter, spilling over with half-chewed vomit.
The day before *that* -- Boxing Day -- had been filled with rain, almost literally, so that when me and C and Oona ventured out to return library books and get videos and maybe even a "fancy" coffee, our navigations were constantly thwarted by spreading pools and devolving ice. At the video store I almost went silently insane because they only had one of the movies that I wanted and the baby in my Baby Björn was revealing herself to be a very effective furnace, and suddenly I was a big hot guy in a small frustrating place. C is on a mission right now (you can never tell which missions will stick and which won't) to find me some sort of size fifteen winter/spring footwear so I'm not always coming home with wet feet.
Christmas Day we stayed indoors and that was fine.
*The above is a painting on the front of the deskplanner I made for C, as part of her Christmas present.