...and not a hint of snow. I find it all incredibly frustrating. It's 46 degrees outside here in central PA, which is normally absolutely frigid and icy this time of year - I'm told we're supposed to have snow this weekend, just in time for Christmas, but I refuse to believe it. If I do, it will turn out to be a hoax of some sort and we're going to get more rain. Rain! I ask you! If it was a proper winter it would have snowed last night instead of rained.
Weather forecast for tomorrow and Sunday: "Partly sunny. High 38. Chance of precipitation 10%." This is unspeakable!
Of course we've had Christmases without snow before - but they're gray and drab and very unpleasant.
On Wednesday - when it was raining - I managed to slip off my bicycle and fall spectacularly in the street, scraping my ankle to death, skinning my palms, and breaking my dignity to bits. And I tore a pair of my favorite socks to shreds, and somehow gave myself a concussion. On Wednesday night I became one of those ridiculous women in Victorian novels and fainted in the hallway.
There are few other things which could possibly happen to go wrong between now and Sunday. Well, besides my not being able to find any Christmas presents for anyone, because despite the time I've had to do it I have barely started.
Isn't this a muddle?
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