The Next Chapter in the Nightmare
That would be 2022.
Mostly cloudy today, a little sun. Our high was official high today was 80˚F. On New Year's Day. And now we are about to see the temperature plunge. After weeks of this, after the world starts getting green again and the birds start singing...Monday's high will be 46˚F and Monday's low will be a bone-chilling 29˚F. But worry not. By Wednesday, we'll be back up to 60˚F.
I messed about with the new story some this morning. The optimistic and kindly among you might call it writing.
The generous.
Right now, I think RP (roleplay) in SL (Second Life) is the only thing making my life bearable. Well, that and the other thing.
We didn't even bother cooking black-eyed peas and collards this year. I see nothing to hope for, except that maybe I can manage to get Kathryn and myself back to Rhode Island by July and be a mere six-hour drive to Canada, so we will have some chance of escape when the shit hits the fan.
Later,
Aunt Beast
10:24 a.m.
Mostly cloudy today, a little sun. Our high was official high today was 80˚F. On New Year's Day. And now we are about to see the temperature plunge. After weeks of this, after the world starts getting green again and the birds start singing...Monday's high will be 46˚F and Monday's low will be a bone-chilling 29˚F. But worry not. By Wednesday, we'll be back up to 60˚F.
I messed about with the new story some this morning. The optimistic and kindly among you might call it writing.
The generous.
Right now, I think RP (roleplay) in SL (Second Life) is the only thing making my life bearable. Well, that and the other thing.
We didn't even bother cooking black-eyed peas and collards this year. I see nothing to hope for, except that maybe I can manage to get Kathryn and myself back to Rhode Island by July and be a mere six-hour drive to Canada, so we will have some chance of escape when the shit hits the fan.
Later,
Aunt Beast
10:24 a.m.