When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro. - Hunter S. Thompson

12 February 2006

Whiteout

Well, New York City is getting the blizzard they've been warning us about. While we slept, the snow started falling in earnest, and this morning, it's bitterly cold out (23F), the winds are high (40mph) and the snow is coming down in sheets, along with (and this is something of a rarity) occasional thunder and lightning. There's an active blizzard warning until 4PM, and who knows how high it'll be piled up by the time it stops?

At a little past eight in the morning, Carrie and the Chows are all still happily asleep under a pile of comforters in the bedroom; Mister Gato, as always during a terrible storm, is curled up near me with the kind of smug, pleased expression on his face that only a recently-fed former street cat could wear. "We're all warm and dry in here, and not freezing out there!"

Amen. And as I put on a pot of decaf (having had my caffeine quota for the day already) and plan on how to defend my breakfast of soft-boiled eggs (the perfect nosh for a guy with stitches in his mouth) from the quadrupeds, all of whom love anything eggy, and as the storm howls outside...

I'm thankful for the blessings of food, and shelter, and the love of all the mammals I live with.

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