So I runs out to do some errands, taking a break from the slashing and deleting and overall destruction of some chapters of my manuscript (cursing myself thoroughly although knowing it's all for the best) and discover that -- egad! (and yes, I really talk that way) -- it's snowing.
I tells ya, what is happening to the gradual change of seasons? It's like we leap from winter to summer, with spring about a week long. This year, fall...well, was there even an autumn at all? Maybe a day or two. But I was in short sleeves last week.
Now, I like the snow -- around Christmas. Or if it's sunny. But as the Number One Snow Shoveler in the abode, despite the present of other able-bodied adults? Generally, I can do without it.
And this wasn't so much snow as slush from the sky. AND I just missed the post office pick-up.
I need chocolate. Hot chocolate. Stat.