From ‘Let It Snow!’ To ‘Make It Go!’
An awful lot of people up here in ol’ New England are now complaining about the over eight feet of snow we’ve had dumped on us in some parts over the last three-plus weeks.
I say: ‘Get over it. You’re living in bloody New England — snow’s part of the deal, Clyde. Move on with your “tragic” life’.
It’s a hard thing to get through, these bad Winters, but, man, what did you expect when you decided to live here?
The only things you should be complaining about are, say, missing a hockey game one of your kids or relative’s kids are playing in or not being able to blog because you’re exhausted and paining after shoveling.
Suck it up, New Englanders. This is the gig we chose.
Speaking of the latter complaint: every night, over the past several days, as I have sat at this keyboard, my mind just hasn’t been able to click into a gear that meets my standard for writing decent posts. Apologies tendered.
I was hoping to get back to my agitating today, but we had to put our oldest cat down and Abigail and I were close for seventeen years. She was eccentric to say the least [including having two different colored eyes and being, quite obviously, ‘not all there’], but fit in well at our house [which I like to call The Island Of Misfit Cats].
I’ll try again tomorrow and, hopefully, succeed.
Thank God I’m well taken care of, because, you see…
Thank the Good Lord for Mrs. B….and, of course, Francis Albert.