Sitting atop the hibernating A/C, I nursed a "tall boy" can of the finest low-point beer Oklahoma has to offer and drug on a parade of chain-lit cigarettes. It must have all been a part of some scheme. Somewhere, sometime I'd decided to straddle the two saddest moments of every year by celebrating in the most offensive and reprehensible manner I could muster on short notice. I listened to the trees, all snowmen arms, fight like pinball to keep the last leaf from falling. I discussed, with Cassiopeia, the hypothetical merits (maritime or otherwise) of being able to find Polaris effortlessly. All the while I apologized to, and reacquainted myself with, a cat I'd watched give birth.