I must tell you that while I was typing this title the power clicked off, and then back on. Maybe it is a sign from God that I need another title.
Or maybe... there are more important events to worry about.
We are under ice.
This morning was beautiful with everything looking sugarcoated, but with the beet juice, salt, and sand, it has all started to melt.
All around me tree limbs are crashing to the ground smashing cars, gutters, and anything else in the way.
It's as if the sugarcoating got sick and now has a cold like half of the people I know. The drippy ice is like the snot that is being propelled into tissue around this infirmary... I mean office.
Don't lose hope, tonight it will all freeze again, like Owensboro is taking an antihistamine.
I have not stopped and I will not. I have been working all day, unlike some who I am totally envying right now.
But it is good.
I get caught up on paper work, wear my boots, and stomp holes in the slush so you can see where I have tread.
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