This time of year stinks. Except for the free stuff.

There’s just something wondrous about a snowstorm. It’s a leftover from childhood, I guess – that tingle of excitement the night before, as the first few flakes start to fall.

So as I rocked my baby boy to sleep last night, and the forecasters were calling for eight or more inches of snowfall, I felt that vestigial thrill creep back into my shriveled thirty-something heart.

Well so much for the powers of prognostication. I woke up to a grey, rainy moring. Cold and wet and snow-less. “The Shadowlands” as C.S. Lewis dubbed this time of year. Bleh.

The upshot? Free movies. I went to the mailbox this morning to find 3:10 to Yuma, Away from Her, and No County for Old Men waiting for us thanks to the wife’s Screen Actor’s Guild membership. It’s the time of the SAG awards, and so we begin to be inundated with free screenings of awards contenders.

Now if only I could find the time to watch them . . .

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