Okay, so I’ve been slumbering this nasty winter away. Only two or three times was I briefly awakened by the rude sunbeams from the window that my Millie has ceremoniously exposed to the outside world when she rises each day at that tender (and outrageous!) morning hour of 4. But I can painfully reach the chord to the blinds from the bed, and down they fall so I can drift back into my sweet stupor.
So something woke me up today, March the Third, and I was certain that a lovely spring view would glow in hope-filled glory from the window, with green iris stems tickling the budding bushes in my yard. I was so sure that the jagged teeth on the gutters of my house would be melted away, that the desolate frozen drifts accumulated from this snow-gushing winter would have sunken into the muddy soil. How shocked was I to see an image unchanged from that of last January!
I looked in the mirror. My beard has grown long and scraggly, what’s left of my hair an unkempt swirl. My fingernails wouldn’t look out of place on the digits of Boris Karloff in one of his old horror films.
I found some years ago that the best way to pass the winter is to sleep through its whirling wind and piled snowdrifts. The nicest place in the winter is a warm and cozy bed. Preferably next to a fireplace, but I’m afraid that I don’t have that luxury. But a bed piled with quilts and comforters will do just fine.
At the sight of this untimely winter scene I spat on the floor in disgust! Will it ever end?
Now that I have expressed my dismay to the world, I will try to resume my interrupted sleep. I will rise again in time for that awfulest of days when we shall see another sort of untimely abomination called Daylight Savings!
In the meantime, good night!