Last time I saw Harry he was wearing a blue sweater and an idiotic expression. The sweater was new.

My ass ain't goin' nowhere.



So I had a drug test this morning with my airline (which I would so object to if I really cared at all). D left around 5:15 in the AM to get to work. I'm chugging a glass of water around 7:20am (you know, trying to make the forseeable future as easy as possible) when I catch a glimpse of my yard through the sunroom window. What I think is frosty precipitation on the window is a WHITE yard. Like the time I landed in DFW from Japan and I thought I was looking at whitish sky when the plane LANDED and I realized that was indeed the ground. (To this day I am so thrilled my parents made it to the airport to get my sorry ass and that we did NOT have to land in MEXICO, as the flight attendant later confided we almost had).

We here in this part of the country have a hard time making our brains see snow. It'll get there, we just need a minute.

So there is like, a lot of snow out. Like a lot. (Remember, I'm in Texas. This is not the same as a New Englander's "a lot.")

So I called D because after all, snow driving is not as bad as ice driving, though still something I'm hardly inclined to do. Ever. It was just starting when he left, apparently, and it took him TWO HOURS to get to work. (It usually takes 40 minutes). Hans' green little VW behind was about halfway down the driveway when he told me this, and now it looks odd that someone thought about leaving, got halfway down, and then pulled right the hell back in.

That's one drug test, officially re-scheduled for tomorrow morning. I've noticed, too,that my online chat help with my airline are perhaps the slowest typists on earth. And they seem to favor the less common spellings. Such as "tommorrow."

Mouchette is VERY delighted that I've parked myself in the chair for the morning. I practically have to beat him off if I don't want a cat in my lap.



And speaking of which, I saw on Netfux that Mouchette is finally out on DVD. It's a really uplifting (HA) Robert Bresson film from '67. I'd seen it at the Dobie a few days before picking up my kitten, who was the *runtiest* black kitten. When he was mis-sexed (what a word, should it be one), well, he became Mouchette! And I couldn't really take it back once he was getting his bath and revealed himself to be male...besides, "Mouche" is fairly androgynous, right?

I guess I should go close the garage and text someone at work to say, "Yeah right, bitches."