Oh, the pain...

The spring-like weather is gone and it has been snowing steadily since yesterday. The snow is so heavy with moisture it can't even drift on the winds whining past the windows. It falls to the ground like a beer swilling, barrel-bellied Super Bowl Sunday, pizza and snack machine drops into his favorite recliner in front of the TV. Everything is mounded and drifted with white and the air is heavy with sheets of falling crystals. My mountains are invisible behind the white out drapes of a winter storm on this day before spring and the cold battles with the meager heat from my space heater. The landlady turned off the furnace when the weather got warm.

And now there's work to do and my fingers and hands and every muscle attached to those muscles and attached to every other muscle in my body are throbbing and aching from painting this weekend. I have to put the living room back together before the new coffee and end tables arrive tomorrow afternoon and the laundry is still humped on the bed because I didn't have enough energy to fold and hang and put it all away. Needless to say, there is also work to be done and I will be focusing on that since this weekend I have to focus on putting together and putting out another issues of the Ø-Beat newsletter for the local ham organization. My plate is full and my cup runneth over. There are worse things in the world. Like...

I'll think of something when the rest of my brain wakes up. For now, I'm off to bring the space heater closer, put some breakfast in the oven, and take a long hot shower before tackling the day and evening's work. I may even get to bed by 1 AM tomorrow morning -- and I still have Ostara to plan for and celebrate. I was hoping for daffodils and tulips and crocuses and amaryllises and...well...spring.