Whoo. Don’t think I’ll be riding the old bikey bike today. Not outdoors, anyway.
It’s 10:30 a.m. and the temperature has yet to creep above zero. In fact, it’s actually dropping. A short bout of snow-shoveling quickly sent me scuttling back indoors to climb into the oven with the broiler turned on. Now there’s a fine smell of sizzling fat in Chez Dog, as though someone were preparing a repast of pork roast wrapped in bacon.
Speaking of food, it seems a fine day to make a giant cauldron of beans in chipotle, whip up some Mexican rice, maybe toast a couple of chicken quesadillas, especially since none of this will require me to leave the house for any reason.
Even the Boo, who ordinarily is a great fan of cold weather, has taken to peeing on the deck rather than wading out into the frozen tundra to do his little bit of business. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked the cats for a loan of the litter box.