I am freezing my butt off. It's 18 degrees outside y'all. Eighteen. Some of you north of, oh, maybe Interstate 20 don't get my frustration with that number. That is some nasty, slap you in the face, cold weather. There are deer that live in a field by our house and it stresses me out that they're going to be very cold tonight. How do they stay warm? Because that doesn't look like a super heavy coat of fur.
Our fur babies are inside. All four of them. In our room. Mr. B is next to me, snoring. Moe is in my office chair, bathing himself. (He's weird when he does this, and it's loud.) Gus waited for Mr. B to fall asleep before he would climb on his legs to call it a night. Roscoe is running from Gracie. She's chasing him relentlessly. I think he likes it though. They go into our bathroom and play in the empty bathtub. I'm not sure any of my cats are playing with a full deck. Maybe they're in survival mode like me. We do what we can to stay warm.
Look, the struggle is real. We get MAYBE a month of winter down here. And that's a scattered month. Next week, it's going to be back in the 70's.
I'm just sad for the deer. And all of the other critters trapped out in the bitter cold. I wish I could call them up to the house, introduce myself as a friendly, and tell them to just warm up in the garage overnight. I could scatter some hay or something and have a makeshift barn. Then I'd make the kids sweep the deer doo doo out of the garage in the morning.
Now it's seventeen degrees. Fun. Please let this finally kill the mosquitoes.
I'm going to bed. With my heavy down comforter and electric blanket. And feel bad for the deer. Bless them. Bless the cute ones with the white spots on them. And their mamas.
My brain goes weird places when I'm tired. On that note, I'm out.
Goodnight fans.
Goodnight stalkers.
Goodnight deer.
Goodnight Gracie.
No comments:
Post a Comment