"The pain must feel like snow." ~ David Bowie
Currently, it's 28˚F, but the windchill has us at 18˚F. I think last night's low with windchill was 7˚F. The sky out there will blind you, then eat you alive.
From last night:
But at least we don't have to worry about finding a new place to live anytime soon. The house has sold to someone who's not raising our rent, so at least there's that. It's a bittersweet relief, since I don't want to be in Rhode Island, and that certainly includes this house.
Sanders will likely carry the day in Wisconsin, but not by a spectacular margin, and with Clinton's forthcoming New York win, it's too little, too late. With superdelegates, Hilary Clinton is now a mere 330 delegates from the win.
There's really not much else worth saying about yesterday. Late, I watched Gregory Peck in Robert Parrish's The Purple Plain (1954), based on H.E. Bates' novel of the same name.