Oh, to be a brown bear. Curled up like a ball under a warm blanket, waiting out the winter. Keeping an eye on the coffee maker. Not caring one iota about the day’s political scenery. Binge watching all 80 episodes of “Schitt’s Creek.”
Wednesday, 19 Feb, 6:30 a.m. — It’s 20 degrees outside. There’s white snowy stuff on the ground. Since two of our cats were begging to go outside, I let them. The short-haired Siamese came back pretty quickly. He’s now curled up on the couch. The long-haired Tabby is still outside. No doubt he’s found a warm spot under the house.
Why aren’t schools closed, or at least delayed? I guess it all depends on the icy-ness of the roads. If they’re not slippery, the buses can get through. But there’s snow on the ground. Maybe this will be the only time I’ll have a chance to — I mean, the KIDS will have a chance to build a snowman. Wouldn’t you think…
Oh, wait a minute. The Tabby’s back and I just got a message saying school’s closed for the day! Build a snowman? No way. I’m huddling under a blanket and drinking coffee until Thursday. I sure hope the electricity stays on.
Wait a minute. Is “Schitt’s Creek” just another story about whiney billionaires who think the world evolves at their whim? No thanks! I’m not watching any news today.
Thursday, 20 Feb, 6:30 a.m. — It’s 12 degrees outside. The heater can’t keep up. All the faucets are dripping. I’ve got long johns and two jackets on. I hate to admit this but I’ve come to the conclusion I’m just a big talker when it comes to “enjoying” cold weather — all hat and no cattle, all sizzle and no steak, all puck and no stick.
I’ve always said that I much prefer winter over summer. You can put more clothes on, but can only take so much off. Well, that’s easy to say when Winter usually lasts about a week, and you don’t live where 12 F feels like a warm front.
Today’s trash day. I’ve got to decide pretty soon if I want to bundle up and haul that dumpster to the road or wait until next week when it’s a bit warmer and I can get by with just a T-shirt and shorts. I guess I better go check to see if the dumpster’s full.
Yep. Full to the top. I went ahead and dragged it to the road. I can’t feel my face anymore.
Friday, 21 Feb, 6:30 a.m. — It’s 21 degrees outside. It’s not that I hate Winter. I just dread not knowing when the “bombs” will start dropping. One to take out the electricity. One to take out the heater. The others to blow the water pipes to smithereens. It’s like not knowing from day to day if you’ll still have a job tomorrow. It’s like playing hide and seek with the medical bills you can’t pay. It’s like being one slip down the icy steps away from being a “dearly departed.”
I much prefer Winter when I’m inside, warm and dry. Or when it’s over.
Saturday, 22 Feb, 6:30 a.m. — It’s 31 degrees outside. The wind isn’t blowing. There are a few clouds in the sky, but I can still see a waning crescent moon. The coffee’s brewing. The cats are playing Tag. Does it feel a little warm in here to you? Or is it just me?
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