Pop it like it's...

Image by jamierytlewski via Flickr

Strange days these, in a space where most aren't used to being guarded by such depths of white snow. For me, I'm not much bothered, with a stack of books to read, six months of Wired mag to catch up on, and a cupboard full of food, which is a good thing since way-out-where-huh-oh in the boonies has a tendency to be last on the list of roads plowed.

Mom said last week, "You can take my car if you want to get out of here?"
I said, "No need and no desire to be out there!"

This afternoon is supposed to bring us another gift of four to six inches, and I made my emergency run for supplies yesterday... to the library. Stocked up. BAM!

I'm caring for the hacienda while the parents are away, snow-birding as it is called, and since they left things have begun to fall apart around me. The recliner dropped a small screw (fortunately, I didn't step on it). The toilet paper dispenser popped a wooden plug from the screw hole that it was built to fill. Waiting for the third thing to drop...

Meanwhile, I will be in my quiet paradise of white, stoking the wood-burning stove, tending to a small fire next to which I'll be writing, writing, writing, and making headway on all the fictional tales that are forever on my mind.

[If you don't hear from me by Monday, please send in the St. Bernards.]