I have spent the better part of the day writing here. Unfortunately, the writing ran away with itself, and unless you want to sit and read for hours, losing the will to live in the process, it needs - no, is going through - a serious surgical procedure. I do believe it is called editing.
Oy, when the words start cascading, it is like a rupture in the dam wall, isn't it.
The mega literary endeavour began after I decided to cancel my place in the aquazumba class this morning. That happened after I spent ages trying to scrape my car. And my hands took forever thawing. Bright red is their new look. And the scraping of the car happened after the freezing fog descended and has not departed all day, so I have stayed in.
So you see, it was all the fog's fault.
It seems I have a great deal to say. My friends and family may pick themselves up off the floor right now and stop howling with laughter.
On the domestic front, we are having bread and butter pudding for dessert. No, we never have desserts. Yes, we are having one, because I have made it. That would be because I have a panettone here, and no-one likes it, so I offered it to Jean, who suggested the bread and butter pudding, which I have never made before. My mother has forgotten if she has ever made it, but I seem to remember something vague from my childhood - or maybe that was one of the grandmothers. Anyway, it will be popped in the oven and we will see what happens. And the oven will warm the kitchen.
It is bitterly cold here, and the snow has not disappeared at all. Not with temps way below 0C. Ice is the name of the game, and I am sick of ice already. I even found some ancient Ice Melt (salt) and tossed it around near the doors. Ah well. Nothing more to add until the edit is over, my friends. Stay warm.