Last night I fell asleep with the crate of steak knives sitting on the floor across from my bed. I had a dream I woke up and I could hear someone crying inside the box. Matt ended up giving me this big metal spoon his grandmother brought over "from the old country", which I used to pry the crate open.

I don't know if such a spoon exists, but it made sense in the dream.

When I got it open, a man with no skin popped out and started gnawing on my arm. He said he wanted to eat my muscles.

I'm unsure how he said it while chewing on my arm, but I remember that part distinctly. I also remember being most freaked out by the fact he didn't have any lips. The "no skin" and visible musculature didn't really phase me all that much.

I woke up kind of shaken up by the whole thing to find the steak knife crate standing upright in the corner of my room. I had to sort of sit and stare at it for awhile to make sure it wasn't part of the dream. Then I heard a rattling sound that I *thought* came from inside the crate and ran for the door.

Matt's girlfriend must have been using the bathroom while I was asleep and locked the door from the other side, trapping me in my room with the definitely moving and potentially rattling crate of fragile steak knives.

I ended up climbing out on my fire escape and banging Gerald's window with a hockey stick so he could let me out of my room. I slept on the couch for the rest of the night.

It was snowing all last night and Sue sent out an e-mail before we left work letting us know the blizzard was NO EXCUSE for not showing up for work on time. Gerald and I both got up late because I wasn't sleeping near my alarm clock, and Gerald didn't have me to wake him up on time.

We got to the remote lot a little later than usual. Whoever plowed the lot had pushed all the snow around the garbage car we stole the steak knives from so all you could see was the bent door of the trunk sticking out.

A bunch of empty coffee cups and other breakfast related rubbish was stuck in the snowbank right above where the trunk would be. I guess old habits die hard.

Gerald and I got to the office a bit late, and Tom was waiting by our desks. I told him we were late on account of the storm, and he told us it wasn't snowing in California.

I told him it wasn't 9 AM in California. He went back in his desk to verify the fact.

When I got home the crate was still standing in the corner of my room along with a bunch of other boxes that weren't there when I left. Matt said his buyer couldn't make it out due to the storm, but should be here tomorrow.

He said the other boxes were surplus Groundhog Hats that were supposed to be sent to the Groundhog's Day celebration in Punxatawney, PA and ended up getting 'misrouted'. Something tells me they were misrouted off a loading dock into the back of Matt's car.

He apologized for throwing them in there and said he didn't have anywhere else to put them. He said he'd give me 15% of whatever he took in if I let him keep them there.

I said it was OK, more because I want the 15% so I can calculate what the going rate is on 600 post-holiday groundhog hats. With my luck, tonight's the night we get raided.