In Which I Spout the Most Random Assortment of Complaints Ever

It's too cold to do anything.

That's my excuse anyway, for being stuck on the couch under a quilt, for still being in my pajamas, for having no ambition to get anything accomplished today, for why I seriously considered having donuts for dinner tonight instead of the chicken fingers I had planned (for the Papoosekin and the Husband; I'm still on the semi-vegan week plan).

It's also my excuse for the blogger's block from which I suffer, for the grocery shopping I haven't done, for the nephew's gift I haven't started sewing, for the thank you notes I haven't written.

I did sweep today. And paid my ASHA dues. So that's something.

It's 18 degrees here. I know it's much colder elsewhere. My mom wrote me that it was 16 below zero this morning back home in The Land of Ice and Snow, as I like to refer to it. To myself.

But it's cold enough that I can't take the Papoose outside to play. The Ouiser's pipes froze last night, and, although I can't get in touch with Ouiser herself, the Husband has been in touch with Mr. Ouiser, and I think it's safe to say that they're having a hellish day.

It also doesn't help that the Papoose got up at 4:40 this morning. I don't know what she was thinking. She had the compassion to sit there quietly for about half an hour after the Husband gave her a binky, but, of course, we couldn't get back to sleep. And now her schedule is thrown so far off for the day that by 6 pm tonight, she's going to be in a ferociously exhausted Mood. The kind where all she wants is to be held and will throw a fit all the way until bedtime if we put her down. So, there's great fun to look forward to there.

That is all.