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Thursday, December 08, 2005

Now That's What I Call Christmas

The bus, not the snow.

They said there's be snow, but they reckoned four to six inches. And they hyped it as if it never snowed in the Midwest. By two o'clock in the morning, so my Jack Russell would go out and do what dogs do when they go out, I was using a plastic dustpan to dig through the twelve to fourteen inches deserving of hype. By the time I'd finished, Sally had a track around the perimeter of the garden, albeit only eight inches wide. Was tempted to carve a face but, because I don't have an upstairs, I don't have an upstairs window to photograph it from. Perhaps I'll do a white painting with the tips of two brown ears and a stumpy tail peeping up.

Declining to brush the snow off the bicycle I opted for public transport for a meeting this morning. To get my first bus I waded through snow piled so cars could drive unencumbered. From my second bus I counted seven cars stuck in the snow. The third and final bus had quite a surprise. Red and gold tinsel garland drooped all along the inside edges of the bus and a large Christmas wreath hanging up at the back.

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