The high today is a predicted 31 degrees. Snow is predicted. The headline on the weather page referred to two major snowmakers on the way. The major thrust of the alert: SLICK ROADS. And there, in the illustration, we were right in the middle of the path. Of course, it is only March and snow is frequent in March in Northern Indiana, but we have been so cold and so constantly snow-pelted that I am ready for a break.
Of course, last year I was up to my thighs in the driveway with snow and this year has not been so bad, especially since I was in Fairborn when one storm bore down on the house here. It wasn’t me out there with shovels fighting to connect the driveway to the road. I was ensconced in an apartment wondering when I would be able to get back. To be honest, that was so much better than the thigh deep snow and the frigid windchill.
Der Bingle and I sat and watched Netflix and read and I phoned back instructions involving lamp oil and firewood and salt. Oh, and we might have ventured out for a lunch a City Barbeque with the wooden beaver at the door and the Cheerwine in the cooler.
Oh, well. At least the soda in the vestibule will be cold, but won’t freeze and explode. Pretty soon I will feel safe in standing on a ladder, washing cola fizz off the beadboard ceiling without fear of a recurrence.
Today, despite the snow and grey skies and overall winterness of it all, is Kathryn Feller’s 98th birthday. So I am going to not only shower and put on clean clothes, I am going to try to find something a bit more spiffy to wear than my lucky jeans with the pocket torn in back. Unfortunately, I did not think of this earlier and am going to have to scrounge around. This could be a bit of a challenge. Actually, more than a bit. Heck, I’m starting to panic. Rose!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!