Around this old house today

I won't complain about the weather.
I won't complain about the weather.
I won't complain about the fact that I can't get out of my driveway.
I won't complain about the weather.
I won't complain about the arctic temperatures.
I won't complain about the ice rink-covered streets.
Neither will The Beagles.  
They are as warm as two pigs in a blanket.  Actually, they are two pigs in a blanket.

We've been experiencing cabin fever for three days.  We live in freaking Dallas.  August temperatures ignite thermometers to 100+ degrees.

Apparently weather.com had a hard time identifying the high temperatures in my zip code on Wednesday.  How can the high be N/A?  How much longer do I have to listen to my faucets drip in efforts to ward off freezing pipes?  Now I know what prisoners torture treatment feels like.

Thank GAWD I don't like north of the Mason Dixon line.  Snow is only good when you're on a pre-planned trip to the Rocky Mountains to go spring skiing.  Snow is only good when you are in school and classes are closed and homework is postponed.  Snow is only good on either the 24th or 25th of December when a white Christmas is magical.  

I won't complain about the weather.  My friends who live in the Tundra (anything north of Oklahoma) are laughing their asses off at me.  I realize.  It's fine.


But, I did purchase fresh flowers earlier this week.  They're freezing their stems off too.  A reminder of the spring to come.  


Please come soon.

 I won't complain about the weather . . . .