Snow business

Yesterday's violets are shivering in the snow.  It came down heavy and wet.  I hear that at the beach where we spent a clear and sunny interlude last week, they got six inches of the fluffy stuff.  Timing is everything!  Schools opened late today all over the city, and the morning commute was a nightmare. (Four-wheel-drive does NOT mean you can stop just like normal!) The snow kept falling till noon-ish, but it was melting as fast as it fell.  It made great, hard and heavy snowballs though.  So I've heard. I wouldn't ever actually make and throw a snowball.  So unladylike.

Pay no attention to those lying raccoons.

I am really enjoying this whole process of lying around doing damn all.  Swear to God, they should call me Beau Nydel. (Thanks, Terry Pratchet!)  I've been paying attention to those reports that say you should get up and walk around every 30 minutes.  I'm quite sure they're correct, too.  But I ask myself, "Do I want to extend a life that demands I raise from my comfy chair every half hour and get some exercise?"  And myself answers - "I'll have to think about that one.  Is that the same life that forbids red meat and butter, white sugar, bacon, and all things fried?  Do I WANT to live in austerity while my friends are wallowing in sensual delights, then passing on before their time?  Do I want to be the last righteous bitch of my generation?"



This is a trick question, isn't it?