2004-12-22 - 7:22 a.m.
I read in someone else's diary yesterday that it was the solstice. And now, this morning, there's a beautiful blanket of snow, thick and white, absorbing the gray of the clouds.
Beautiful and cold and wet. I'd like to stay nestled in my bed with...the four or five blankets? (somehow I started with one at the beginning of the week) and a kitty and a good book. The book is all pretense, though. I'd be sleeping. Etc, etc. Etc. Heh.
Hibernation style, hardcore.
But I must tromp out in the cold, and my pants are falling down, none of them fit anymore, and scrape and brush the snow away. I know that halfway up my calves will be cold and drenched by the time I get to work since they are dragging the ground anyway.
I shall not complain about my disappearing tummy. I just should have asked Santa for some smaller pants. Not that he listens. He never got me that pony I wanted. And that one year, I asked for my runaway cat, Maxwell Smart, to come home? He didn't.
It probably didn't help that I didn't believe in Santa. Except for when it came to Max. He was nice and gray and I still have a faint scar on my face from that run-in with him and the dog. He was my first kitty.
Oh, but the snow is nice. Nice for the kiddies at Christmas time. Christmas lights shining on it remind me of icing and candy on gingerbread houses.
Don't eat the snow!
I worry about that lady who didn't have shoes I saw yesterday. But she didn't want any. She wouldn't take a coat, either.
