Intervention. INTERVENTION!

Nothing is better than a snow day. Except, perhaps a snow day for Monday that is decided at 5:30 on a Sunday evening. WooHoo!

The roads are still treacherous for those without a surefooted T-Hoe. The bad news is that the #1 son has basketball practice at 12:30 tomorrow. Which kind of ruins the whole snow day concept. How can it be safe to haul these kids to practice, when it isn't safe to haul them to school for an education? It's beeeyooooooond me.

I made a trip to Save-A-Lot today. The SLOW people were out. Slow. Like, they brought the whole family, and stood at the meat counter gazing in awe. Another group took up the cheese/butter/egg aisle. I don't mean to criticize my hillbilly brethren, but c'mon, people! Get a life. And another thing I found out on this little jaunt to civilization. IT'S FREAKIN' COLD OUT THERE!

Hoarder H has a new sickness. CLOCKS! He told The Pony that is was animal auction day, but that it's so cold, he didn't plan to go. Instead, he puttered around the Mansion, engaging in his latest vice: clock collecting. Never mind that he paid a fortune to have an old clock that belonged to his dad fixed over the summer, and that freakin' thing chimes the hour every...well...hour. Oh, and it dings on the half-hour. That clock wakes me up every hour through the night. Which is one reason I haven't been getting to bed until after midnight. That's 12 chimes, in case you don't have a chimer to count along with in the dark. I told Hoarder H that his dad probably fixed it so that it wouldn't chime.

Knowing of my displeasure with noisy clocks, Hoarder H went out and got more of them. One of them in the basement groans at the hour. He's got something messed up with the weight thingies. Next thing I know, we have a cuckoo clock. That was relegated to the basement workshop, but I could still hear it every hour while in my office, or watching the big screen.

Upon returning home from Save-A-Lot, I found Cuckoo hanging on the kitchen wall. The clock, not H. The problem with that is that it sticks out from the wall about 8 inches, so that when you walk by on your way to oh, I don't know...the kitchen table, the cutting block, the back door, the laundry room, the refrigerator, the sink...you will whack your head on that confounded unwanted cuckoo clock. Not to mention the dueling chimer/cuckoo concerto every hour.

The Groaner is now ensconced in the master bathroom, on a tiny narrow shelf. That means that it might crash to the tile floor when the kids get too rambunctious in the living room that is just on the other side of that wall. And I'm pretty sure that high humidity is not good for antique clocks. So what better place to place it than on a tiny narrow shelf in the bathroom?

Why can't Hoarder H collect something like thimbles?