Another day, another blast of snow. The roads are frozen, and they are telling us not to travel unless it’s an emergency. We know what that means, right?
No, not Hunger Games. We will not be hunting each other through the snowbound wastes with crossbows, either. I know, I know, I’m no fun, but cannibalism is frowned upon here until we start eating tree bark. If the Princess were reading this, she would snort, “It is in fact frowned upon by most societies!” (I think that was the only part of Depp as Willy Wonka she outright liked.) She’s happy to be snowed in, picking out Christmas carols on the piano and making big plans for hot chocolate.
The Prince, of course, is still in bed. I don’t blame him, I would be too if not for the fact that dog stomachs (and bladders) are not of infinite capacity. Plus, there really is work to be done today. At least they let me have a bit of a lie-in. Now Odd Trundles is falling asleep while sitting next to my office heater, weaving back and forth like a tired toddler who just doesn’t want to lie down. Miss B, of course, is tucked under my desk so I can’t put my feet down without resting them on her. I believe that is what she wants, but I refuse to use her as a footstool. So I’m turned half sideways as I type this, and things are going to start cramping soon.
There’s copyedits to do, and the serial to prep, and Afterwar to write. The only problem is going to be deciding what amount of time to spend on each today. I should fit in making some gingerbread, too. What use is a stolen snow day if one doesn’t do some baking?
Oh, Lord. Odd Trundles just woke up enough to attempt to, erm, love the Mad Tortie. For a certain value of “love”, that is. I’m not sure if it’s affection or dominance mounting (or both) but the cat is Not Having It. I had to rescue said cat and clean the scratches on Odd’s poor muzzle. I can’t decide if he just can’t feel the facial injuries, or if he just doesn’t care as long as he gets, um, whatever it is he’s after. Of course, Miss B has to be Helpful, which consists of trying to lick the wounds while I’m cleaning them.
I know I’m not going to get any cabin fever, but the dogs are another thing entirely. Today’s going to be fun.
Over and out.