When I boarded my plane at Los Angeles International yesterday, the temperature was floating in the balmy rafters of 60 degrees. And when I exited to change flights in Chicago, it was a frosty 28 degrees. Who knew it was only getting worse from there?
I'm now home in Marathon (now officially "Cincinnatus," as a sign post has since been erected right in front of my house proclaiming the town boundary), and the barometer is reading 21 degrees. Weather.com helpfully suggests that it "feels like 5."
SANTA, THIS IS *YOUR* FAULT! >:O
In other news, I grossly underestimated how many pairs of clothes I left here when I moved. Turns out, I'm stuck wearing size XL t-shirts with giant, obnoxious designs on them, and the same pair of underwear four days in a row.
The good news is, we have dogs here, and my AWROOO screeches are in overdrive. That's substantially refreshing. And lest they be forgotten from this blog, my family's here, too. Other than my dad, who's still in the hospital. But that's close enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment