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It's freezing up north.

After maneuvering the holiday crowds at Miami International Airport, I arrived home with temperatures in the upper 20s. It's been ages since I've seen snow on the ground, so seeing the aftermath of last weekend's storm was quite impressive.

Anyway, I'm back here in my childhood bedroom, finding it unchanged since my last visit home in October. Of course Mom and Dad are glad to have me home. Both of them ask about the job interview I had in October, and I again told them that there hasn't been any notice.

"Probably didn't get it, then," Dad said. "I mean -- it's not that you weren't a good candidate or anything..."

"Relax," I said. "I've lived with your honesty all my life. I know how to take it."

"Well, you don't know for sure," Mom added. She does this often, trying to blunt my father's at-time crass honesty. "I'm sure things will pick up in 2010."

"Plenty of freelance work for now," I said. And by freelance work, of course I mean clients. The women who pay me for sex.

All of my gifts are purchased, so I won't need to borrow Dad's car to do my holiday shopping like I did last year. There's nothing more miserable than a mall on the final days before Christmas. Between pushy sales associates who won't leave you alone to the deathtrap parking lots, it's a scene I try to avoid.

Will have a more detailed entry up later tonight. Until then, happy holidays to all.