Okay, so right now, it's mostly blowing, but I have to say that as months go, it's only shades of degrees better than February. And everyone knows that February sucks AND swallows.
Not three days ago, it was sunny, windy--but in a spring-like way--and while it wasn't warm, it was comfortable. No heavy duty fuzzy slippers and bathrobe, no heater or electric blanket turned on upstairs...and then, within 24 hours, we have ice, wind--the wintery suck the marrow out of your bones kind--and snow.
It's still arctic bitter cold now. I was out in it for all of 20 minutes to come home after work, and I'm still cold. Cold enough to make me think I need to quit smoking just so I don't have to be out in the cold, since we don't smoke in the house.
At work, of course, I'm still inside. Making the best of things, but desperately needing out. Out, as in the Amityville house is saying "GET OUT!"
The only thing I'm not looking forward to this spring is dealing with the creepy freaks who are not only finding me, but asking personal questions and trying to TOUCH me now. It's not enough to just come worship, now, they want feedback and TOUCHING.
There's no polite way to say it: I am becoming increasingly convinced that I will end up in someone's hidden basement compartment-cum-deep freezer.
These are the things that run around inside my head while I'm trapped in the newest Ice Age.
It's not attractive. I'm not happy about it. But, the next best thing I've got is to start blogging my dreams--which lately, all have some sort of Elvis impersonator in them. And that's not all that attractive, either.
Not three days ago, it was sunny, windy--but in a spring-like way--and while it wasn't warm, it was comfortable. No heavy duty fuzzy slippers and bathrobe, no heater or electric blanket turned on upstairs...and then, within 24 hours, we have ice, wind--the wintery suck the marrow out of your bones kind--and snow.
It's still arctic bitter cold now. I was out in it for all of 20 minutes to come home after work, and I'm still cold. Cold enough to make me think I need to quit smoking just so I don't have to be out in the cold, since we don't smoke in the house.
At work, of course, I'm still inside. Making the best of things, but desperately needing out. Out, as in the Amityville house is saying "GET OUT!"
The only thing I'm not looking forward to this spring is dealing with the creepy freaks who are not only finding me, but asking personal questions and trying to TOUCH me now. It's not enough to just come worship, now, they want feedback and TOUCHING.
There's no polite way to say it: I am becoming increasingly convinced that I will end up in someone's hidden basement compartment-cum-deep freezer.
These are the things that run around inside my head while I'm trapped in the newest Ice Age.
It's not attractive. I'm not happy about it. But, the next best thing I've got is to start blogging my dreams--which lately, all have some sort of Elvis impersonator in them. And that's not all that attractive, either.
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