I'm all achy this morning, which means one of two things: either I slept funny or I'm coming down with something.
I certainly hope it's the former and not the later.
Because the later would piss me off.
If it's the former, that means getting up and moving around some will help.
If it's the later, I should be home in bed.
Yeah, so there BLEH!
It's starting to warm up here in Logan.
FINALLY!
Granted it's not real warm, but it is warm enough during the day for the snow to melt; low thirties to high thirties.
In fact I ran into Ethel Rosenberg in the ice and she's not buried up to her neck anymore, only up to her waste, so things are really warming up.
Tom's house is an exception, it's still a cold wasteland of a death trap, and I haven't noticed any ice movement on Benedict Arnold at all.
But for the most part things are thawing out nicely.
Gah! I want to wish someone a happy birthday here, though I know she never reads my blog.
HAPPY B-DAY RACHEL, albeit a bit belated.
posted by F.G. Shaw @ 10:24 AM
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