Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Damned Blowing Snow

It's fierce out there today--again.  We got at least 5" of wet heavy snow yesterday (I had to keep shoveling out the dive shop's front door) and then once it got dark (after 7 o'clock! the sole benefit of DST) the wind kicked in and has been howling ever since.  I can guarantee that Durwood's not going out to the Pig to get whatever it is that he wants.  Since I have a SCUBA tank that I need to drop off for service I'll volunteer to go.  I'll get the laundry started and he can work on it while I'm gone.  Teamwork!  Hm, maybe I'll stop to get my nails done on the way home...

Three more days to live through (ahem, to survive is more like it) and then I get to drive off to Sheboygan to meet my friend Lala for a weekend escape.  We've done this every winter for the last, oh, four or five and now I'm not sure either of us could make it without it.  We'll take walks along the river and lakeshore, and this year we're going to see the history of the toilet at the Kohler Museum.  Flush!  Usually we park our cars and walk everywhere we want to go but since winter's keeping its grip on us so tight we're planning to drive the miles to Kohler where there's art and toilets to look at--for free.  That's right, no entrance fee.  That's my kind of attraction.  I love me some free.

March 19--Johann Christian Schleip, Lyraflugel.  The notes fell from the piano like crystal drops falling into a silver pool.  Jean was a mediocre player at best but when she played on the instrument in the back of Schleip Music things were different.  She felt the transformation as she walked back through the racks of dusty and yellowed sheet music, past the dull brass trumpets and trombones to the small needlepoint bench posed before the ancient instrument as if inviting her to play.

It's time to go sort the laundry and start the wash.  I know it's time to do that when the chute's full and there was no way yesterday's socks were going anywhere when I pushed them through the chute flap.  Nope, they stayed right there, stinking away, glowering at me.  Time to wash clothes.  And time for winter to relax its grip--we're 20 degrees below normal and I'm not even counting last year's 80 degree St. Paddy's Day and the 70 degree days around it.  We were redoing the rental side and it was warm enough that we could have the air conditioner checked, and it has to be at least 70 to do that.  I... I... I don't know what else to say so I'll go off and drag myself downstairs to play with the dirty clothes.  Doesn't that sound fun?  Not.  See ya.

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