Snowed In
Hey, lookit what I woke up to. Snow! I went out in it this morning, mainly to get pictures before the local jackasses drove around in it. But even at 7:30 am there were tire tracks, apparently just to piss me off. It was kinda pointless to slog my way around the neighborhood through knee-deep snow to find the one street that hadn't been driven on, just for some damn picture, so I went back in. Now last night I doubt if there was anyone out except for fire trucks. Heard those all night long, in between giant cat feet pattering the windowpanes. I should have maybe gone out around midnight. Or maybe not.
Feh.
They were saying last night we'd get mostly rain and sleet, but I think the weatherman just flipped a coin or something because we wound up with nearly all snow. (I had typed "snao" which is the southern pronunciation) Normally we don't even get this kind of snow until January or February, so this was a bit of a surprise. We usually get a Strangely Warm and Wet Christmas around these parts, or maybe a Freezing Cold But Dampish Christmas, but hardly ever a White Christmas. Actually, by the time the holiday actually gets here the snow will be plowed up and mixed with sand so I'll be dreaming of a Filthy Pile of Brown Christmas.
See, the view outside my five windows consists of a wall, a wall with stained glass windows, and a wall. People would kill for that view! I kinda want to kill somebody because of that view.
But the very thought of snow up to one's ass spurred me on to dig up another project to carry with me for the holidays. A 1940s Vest and Panties set, found with a whole pile of other handy-dandy vintage patterns at Knit Wiki. I've got a couple of balls of fine-gauge burgundy wool of the same type I knitted the last pair of 1940s wool undies out of and those worked out great and yes, they really do stop Old Man Winter from slipping his creepy fingers up yer skirts and copping an icy feel. I do recommend wearing regular underwear under the damnable things, unless you like being all itchy in your lady regions.
The Fat Spotted Thing has been tearing from window to window in an effort to catch the snow. All night. My bed is between two windows so I was serenaded by hours and hours of the sounds of big, clumsy kitty feet smacking the glass. Why the hell I haven't already bought a little doggy harness and dragged his fat ass through the snow like a plow, I have no idea. I'm sorely tempted to go back out and get a pail of the stuff and cram him in it head-first.
Since he is the Catdog, most mornings he'll bring me toys in bed to play fetch with, usually before the alarm goes off and I'm still trying to sleep. This time he brought me more crap than usual, because apparently it was A Special Morning. I got a piece of plastic wrap from around the top of my coffee creamer, a strip of cardboard, and a mangy Xmas bow, all out of the kitchen trash. Most mornings he'll bring me old leaves, that disgusting stuffed cow, or the three-foot kitty wand with feathers and a bell on one end, so I should count myself lucky he only hauled some of the cleaner rubbish this time. It's probably a good thing I don't have mice at the moment since I'm quite sure he'll bring me one of those, or a part of one, and make it A Very Special Morning.
Or maybe he was doing some last-minute holiday gift crafting out of garbage.
My brother wants me to get him the sad, lonely little hat I spied outside my window Thursday night. Ha. I'm not going to dig the damn thing out of 10" of snow so you'll have to have to buy your own damn hat, bucko.
