Came back from a wonderful weekend up north to find out nothing had changed. After driving three and a half hours in a snowstorm (same trip took me only two and a half on the way up), I came home to find my neighbors car parked immovably tight to the curb, smack dab across the approach from the sidewalk to the street.
She lives two houses down.
She was parked on the wrong side of the street for night parking.
She's done this before.
Needless to say, the suitcase stayed in the car; I wasn't about to haul it, the purse and the computer tote over the snowbanks to the house (and no, none of the other houses on the block had bothered to shovel their approaches).
It's been one little thing after another ever since. I'm a bit of a klutz this morning, and caught my pinkie in the outside handle of a stall door on the way out of the bathroom. I don't think it is broken, but it hurts like crazy. As a touch typist, I find I'm saying "ouch" rather frequently while writing e-mails.
Tomorrow I'm stopping on the way to work to pick up my belated birthday treat for the office, at a bakery I've passed on the way to work for years. It didn't occur to me until just now that the temperature early tomorrow morning will only be twelve degrees. Yikes. After 731 days (two full years, folks) without a temp below zero, we are slated to freeze solid overnight Thursday, with wind bringing the "feels like" to almost twenty-five below zero.
Anyway, the weekend away was great, and I'll have a few more pictures and other stuff up by this coming weekend sometime. One of the best parts of the weekend? Waking up cold at four in the morning, hopping out of bed to flip the switch to turn on the gas fireplace, then crawling back under the covers for an hour or so while the room warmed up. I could get used to that.
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