A parody of home- apt. 322

Today was a long day. Still is, actually. Thanks to Craig’s bowling tournament, more people have passed walked through the doors than we usually see in a week. This might be the first time I've been busy in months. We've had players that looked like they were 90 all the way down to some little girl that couldn't have been more than 9. Honestly, I don’t even think most of them even care about bowling; I’m pretty sure they’re just trying to get out of the snow. I don’t blame them, really. It’s absurdly deep, probably about up to my waist. People had fun for a little bit, especially coming from the warm weather earlier in the year, but by this point it’s lost its magic to even the most excited children. I wasn't too enthralled in the first place, having lived in a place where an igloo would almost have made sense as year-round shelter. Before I moved here, it wasn't a question of “will it snow this winter?” but rather a question of “how long into spring do you think it’ll be before the snow melts?”. Snow was a guarantee, and a big part of everything there. It was a tedious, inevitable chore and one of our primary sources of fun when it was cold, and it would reliably last through multiple months of the year. Here, even though it’s deep, it’s not going to be here more than a month. It feels like the town itself is trying to get me to like it, but it’s still not working. Though the snow is a nice touch and certainly helps cover up some of the ugliness, it’s still a pain, and it’s driving people into the bowling alley, thus continuing the town’s trend of not letting my finish my book. I've only barely managed to get this out between helping people. Less than an hour to go, though, so wish me luck.