It snowed over the weekend. That’s putting it mildly — you could say El Ni¤o came to town and took a great big dump. It happens, especially in Iowa. But due to the unusually mild winter we’ve had, many of us were caught with our pants down — not a pretty thing this time of year.

What to do with an entire day off from class? It sounds like a dream come true, and in all honesty, it beats the alternative. But like many advantages of college life, many of us have found it to be a mixed blessing.

We really should be grateful, of course. How often do they call off a whole day of classes due to bad weather? For many, the anticipation of last Sunday night and Monday morning brought back fond memories of early winter mornings in grade school spent glued to the radio, praying their school was on the “cancelled” or “two hours late” list. That delicious, juvenile feeling of liberation is exhilarating as ever — much more so than getting up and going to class on a Monday. But that’s before you figure out that your day off isn’t exactly a day off.

Naturally, we all run out and play in the snow at first, because we’re whimsical, vigorous, quirky young college students, and we want to make sure everyone knows it. We’re not so grown up that we can’t enjoy a snowball fight or make a few snow angels. What we don’t realize until later is that once we go back inside, nobody’s going to put our wet snowpants in the dryer and make us hot chocolate while we watch cartoons.

That’s when it occurs to us that there’s nothing romantic or fun about this — winter sucks. Snow can be novel and charming in early December, maybe, but never in March. Spring break is in four days ,and there’s two feet of snow on the ground! There’s nothing whimsical about that. Class or no class, you’d need a shovel and a miner’s helmet just to get into your car, much less drive it, and any way you slice it, that’s a bitch. The honeymoon is over.

The catch is that you’re essentially a prisoner in your own home — or, God help us, dorm room. The reason you’re not going to class is the same reason you’re not going to the mall or the movies or the bars. Anyplace not within walking distance (and we’re talking about walking through waist-deep snow and 40 m.p.h. winds here) is basically off limits. You’re not going anywhere, so you’d better be on fairly good terms with the people you live with.

Cabin fever is not a pleasant thing. Boxed up in a confined space for over 48 hours, battling mind-rending boredom and constant frustration, roommates and friends can turn on one another with little provocation. It may be a good idea to lock up the sharp objects. However, to insure a tranquil domestic scene, it’s important to have as many distractions as possible.

Studying is always an option, of course — at least in theory. Unfortunately, for many of us effective studying is possible only when reinforced by impending deadlines and a terrifying sense of urgency. Trying to do homework just to pass the time only agitates us further, ultimately resulting in a mental state not unlike Jack Nicholson’s in “The Shining.”

Reading a book, even if it’s something we usually enjoy, has a similar effect. In times like these, it’s best to avoid cerebral activity altogether and enter a deep, vegetative state until the worst is over. Television is a great way to shut down mental processes, but be careful: unless you’re a veteran channel-surfer with expanded cable, you run the risk of burnout.

Video games, on the other hand, are highly effective. I recently invested in a Nintendo 64 system, which turned out to be a Godsend over the past weekend. The hypnotic effect of bright colors and flashing lights seemed to pacify the people in my little neighborhood, and the chance to slug it out digitally was an ideal outlet for aggression.

Now is the time to put those time-wasting skills to work. There is a whole universe of unthinking, meaningless activities to choose from: Web sites, crossword puzzles, illicit drugs, that Kevin Bacon six degrees game, and — in a pinch — laundry.

The possibilities are endless. The trick is to avoid anything more than minimally intellectual or superficially productive. Keep these pointers in mind and you’ll have no trouble waiting out the next snowstorm and, with any luck, the rest of your college career.

Josh Raulerson is a junior in journalism and mass communication and English from Decorah.