The weather outside is frightful, but fortunately, we've been able to stay inside all day and we've been treated to the sight of big, fat, fluffy snowflakes coming down from the clouds like goose down falling out of a pillowcase.
I've been going out every few hours and sweeping the front porch, the front steps and walkway and the back steps and walkway. I feel a little strange out there with a broom, but the snow is so pouffy that it's really no problem to just brush it out of the way in an energetic back-and-forth style -- whisk, whisk! whisk, whisk! -- as Wimzie leaps and prances about like a foolish puppy, wearing her warmest winter jacket. Hershey prefers to stay indoors and watch her giddy pirouettes from his warm and comfortable position on the couch.
"What's wrong with you two dopes?" he seems to say as we come in, panting and stamping and breathless from the cold. "It's best to stay in here." And then he yawns widely like a crocodile and snuggles more deeply into his blanket. The girls coo over him and give him a pillow for his head. Hershey allows his eyes to fall shut slo-o-o-o-o-owly. Wimzie throws him a look of slitty-eyed contempt.
The Alberta Clipper is due in tomorrow and the high temperature for the day is supposed to be five degrees. FIVE DEGREES. I can practically guarantee that the water trap on the washing machine is going to freeze up, so I'm thinking I may want to start a load of laundry as I'm making the spaghetti sauce for dinner tonight.
Tomorrow, I think we'll all be like Hershey and sprawl on the couch and let the snowflakes fall where they may.
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