In December of 2010, in the middle of a truly horrendous snowstorm, I stayed up all night in order to deal with the arcane rules about moving cars during a snow emergency in St. Paul. (Actually they’re fairly clear, just never uniformly enforced and they assume people have normal sleep patterns.) While pounding espresso after espresso and listening to the entire Clutch discography nonstop, something broke in my brain. Read more of this post