That's right, it's 4:30 on a Monday afternoon and I'm sitting here cheerfully in dress socks, slippers, and pajama pants, watching the snow rush up and down and sideways. It isn't legally a blizzard because not enough snow will actually land in the end. My coworker and I concluded this afternoon when we could no longer see the building across the street that it was time to go home. My dysfunctional windshield wipers made life even more complicated on icy hills.
But now I am content to curl up with a book and a blanket and let the world blow away.
(And pray it doesn't take my hard drive with it -- the darn thing's dying again. It got a replacement this weekend, which died before I could even get out of the house.)
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