Snowbound

I was going to acknowledge John Greenleaf Whittier for being the first to write Snowbound. He is after all one of the names from the Authors card game. And the poem rhymes even -- he is not playing tennis with the net down. At least until he tried to rhyme prophecy and sky. LAME.

Of course, I can't be expected to struggle through such blighted writing, so I am writing my own.

It was icy all morning and it never warmed up enough for me to get to work. And when I was done and going to take Claren out, it was raining.

I think the worst part of such a day is that I start disliking people who can come and go. Even if it is just outside. You present much less of a target standing than you do sitting in a wheelchair, which should not really get rained on anyway.

And I am going to go out on a limb and suggest that those without Friedreich's ataxia can change out of wet clothes easier than I.

And I hate, by the way, that work is my only recourse for getting out.

Bring on summer.