It’s been snowing for two days straight. I don’t expect to have a lot of people turn out for my DS-8s baptism. Heck, I don’t think we would go if it wasn’t our son.DH shoveled everything out last night and I planned to run to Stansbury Park to do a story, go grocery shopping and drop the bills in the mail before people expecting money decided it was time to turn things off.
But after several vain attempts to contact the people I planned to interview in Stansbury I looked out the window and decided I could make do with what we had in the house.
In my case making due involves calling for pizza and eating the Jr. Mints left over from Christmas. I really don’t like Jr. Mints, and vowed not to eat them. But then again, they are covered with chocolate.
As to the bills, I paid some of them by phone ~ so I should be able to stay on line, warm and have working light switches for a few more days.I’ve been putting stuff on my cat, again.
You do that sort of thing when you are snowed in and don’t want to clean toilets.
2 comments:
If I was a stay at home cat minder would my little butt nugget >^.^< let me put stuff on her? I wonder.
Thank you for commenting that Gigi is being mean because she misses me. I hope it is this rather than a desire to make me feel horrible.
Putting stuff on the cat is a time honored snowed-in tradition. It originated in the British isles in the early 900's BC when the Celts drunkenly dressed cats up and sat them around a round table. Things just went crazy after that.
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