A Light Dusting

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This is the view from the back of the house this morning. We’re supposed to get a couple inches of fluff today and I can live with that. A good portion of America is getting caught up in this arctic air and snow is only part of the problem. Actual temperature right now is fourteen degrees. The wind chill has risen to zero. That’s right, risen.

The cats have reluctantly gone into winter mode. Sneakers and Jasper, the two old men, are crashed on the bed in the man cave. Daniel is on the bed downstairs, dreaming of finches writhing under his paws. Arya has commandeered the master bedroom and Sansa is sprawled on Carjo’s office carpet. The dog dreams of pooping in freshly mowed grass.

Today was the first time I’ve put on my old snow boots since breaking my ankle. Getting the left one to accommodate my somewhat swollen foot was a little work. That foot is in pretty rough shape after the adventures this past weekend and forcing it into that boot hurt. But what the hell is a little pain. I got the thing on and got the garbage out. Then I jingled the car keys for Pippin and he was more than happy to brave the cold just to ride in the car. We went downtown and checked the mail. It was so exciting the poor mutt could barely contain himself. I did note that once I parked the car in the garage and let Pip out, he did not dally or wander across the yard and driveway. He just sprinted for the door and danced in dog delirium until I shuffled up and opened the door.

Last night the local weather folks predicted the lows for this weekend would be below zero. If we had ended up moving my mother-in-law one week later it would have been another kind of hell. I’ve moved friends, family, and ourselves in frigid temperatures but I was a younger man those times, with two functioning ankles. As awful as this move was, I think we dodged a substantial bullet. So this weekend we’ll turn up the heat and catch up on all the TV sitting on our DVR, cats and dog arrayed around us. And every now and then I’ll look outside and say, “glad I’m not moving in this.”

About jeroljohnson

I guess I'm the crying on the inside kind of clown
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