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At mom's, waiting for something.
Ah, yes, in addition to the dryer, which just isn't in the mood. It has a headache or something.
So, I after having stripped off as much as I can while remaining descent, I discover that I left something in the car. I flee barfoot over the snow and finely chisled bits of ice and am in the process of retrieving forementioned object when Mom comes home, drives into the garage, and screams for me not to look. She then closes the garage door, leaving me barefoot in the snow, prancing like a ballet reject, shouting something to the effect of questioning her mental capabilites. Five minutes later, when the cut on my toe has gone painlessly numb, she thoughtfully unlocks the front door and orders me not to go in her closet. While I am gaping stupidly, she adds that I should stand on the floormat so as not to bleed on the carpet. Then she goes to her room and closes the door, leaving me to hop to the kitchen on one foot.
In revenge, I have taken the wonderful stereo system hostage and am now blasting a random selection of my Christmas music out loud enough to wake up the cat, and if you've ever seen my cat, you'll know how much effort that takes.

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