Wednesday, November 23, 2005
That name again is Mr Plough
The nocturnal flurries had blanketed the road and all the cars with crunchy ice and snow, and the effect was just beautiful.
I walked to the bus stop looking like a little eskimo and, no kidding, the snow was falling like little shreds of toilet paper floating through the air.
Once I got downtown though, things looked decidedly bleaker. The dry snow had given way to a wet drizzle and the puddles and greyness dulled my spirits somewhat. Even a warming Starbucks couldn't lift me out of the fug.
But the promise of drinks after work today, and a free ticket to "The Producers" on Monday night is buoying me slightly. And by 'slightly', I mean 'a lot'.