Mr. Weatherman's map showed that our area could expect "a trace to an inch" of snow by morning. We were gobsmacked to find a good half-foot when we arose. In recent days there has been a fair amount of melting, but now it's a case of one step forward, two back. The Chap had to be at the LOB for some Senate hearings and headed downtown. He observed--and a commuter friend confirmed--that it was a miserable drive. The radio reported people sliding all over the interstate and other roads, many accidents.
The wall created by the snow plow continues to rise, and is now a towering eight, maybe ten feet high. Possibly more. Difficult to measure.
One day I'll pose in front of it. I'm in no rush, there's plenty of time before spring. Barring massive heat waves, it'll probably be here on Memorial Day.
My afternoon meeting was cancelled. Meaning I could stay home all day, dipping into the artichoke/cheese dip we have leftover from Sunday. (If you're wondering, no, we didn't really "watch" The Game. The startling loss was Not Our Fault.) This would be a great curl-up-and-read-somebody-else's-book-day. But I've been a good girl and have been writing my own. Rather, re-writing. I attacked the very first paragraph, for the zillionth time, and after knocking it into shape re-re-re-re-re-edited the entire first chapter before carrying on at the place I left off.
I take occasional breaks to play with my new treasure, which arrived yesterday.
As it's Super-Duper Tuesday at long last (Was the NH Primary only a month ago? Seems like years!), I predict a very, very late night of watching election returns, even though I have to be up early in the morning. I also predict the Chap will beat me to bed. He's not as obsessive about these things as I can be.
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