icicles
I've been in a dangerously rabid mood all weekend. My initial thought was that I should probably be quarantined. Then I realized that I am basically quarantined, in this rustic purgatory of a mountain retreat.
Spell Check keeps insisting that I spelled "quarantine" wrong. Screw them.
I'm glad my cats all have their rabies shots, because I might bite.
Winter is firmly ensconced here in the Tennessee backwoods, and the Arctic temperatures keep reminding me that I should have moved somewhere more temperate. Like Guam.
It's presently 5 degrees (Fahrenheit) as I write this, and snow is predicted to enhance our misery by Wednesday. I had to stay up all night (again) to make sure the pipes didn't freeze. It's going to be a bitch of a week and I don't plan on venturing out anywhere for any reason. If worse comes to worse I'll make feline stew. Scruffy and Scratch will be the first victims. Since Bosco has the most agreeable temperament, I'll save him for next week.
I have an EXTREMELY important letter to be mailed. It's a near-matter of life and death.
My only two options are to:
1. Drive a million miles into town on dangerously icy mountain roads
or
2. Risk putting it in my mailbox and pray that the incompetent and sporadic mail carrier will pick it up some time before summer.
I opted to risk leaving it in the mailbox.
Early last evening I bundled up against the 15 degree (Fahrenheit) chill and braved the long.....and I mean LOOONG... walk to my mailbox. The damn thing was frozen shut and I had to pry it open. I propped up the frozen little red flag and said a prayer to the Letter Gods that the errant mail carrier will see it on Monday (that's today).
The uphill walk back home in the frigid temperatures nearly killed me. By the time I got to the front porch I was breathless and dizzy with chest pains.
I sat down at my computer in an attempt to recover, and checked the news headlines.
There - - was an alarmingly huge photo of Martin Luther King glaring at me, with the horrifying pronouncement that Monday is his birthday. Banks, schools, and post offices will be closed. NO MAIL DELIVERY.
My important letter will have to sit in that frozen box for at least another day. Or two or three or four - depending on the weather. And the whim of the mail carrier.
My question:
How many frickin' holidays are there????
It seems like every Monday is a holiday. Soon we'll have so many "holidays" that they will become one endless year-long holiday. I can see it now:
Oprah Day, Obama Day, Geronimo Day, Pocahontas Day, Tokyo Rose Day, Moms Mabley Day....Bill Crosby Day.....
....O.J.Simpson Day......
I'm anxiously awaiting Betty Boop Day.
(fat chance, huh?)
