This is the extent of our "Arctic Blast" this time. Pitiful. And they are still on the air all day on a Sunday with their crack "team reporters" giving live reports from all corners of the DFW Metroplex. It's not even freezing, folks. It's hovering right there on the line of 32 degrees. They still say it's coming tonight, just like they said all day yesterday about last night. Nadda. Zilch. Zero snow or ice.
A better picture of Sammy's eye. I could zoom in or blow the picture up, but I wouldn't want to gross you out. It looks awful, but doesn't seem to bother her in the least. As soon as they stop threatening us with this "Arctic" weather that would bury us any second now, I'm going to take her for a second opinion. Have I said that already in a previous entry? I can't remember, and I'm too lazy to go back and look.
Barnaby is in there rearranging furniture. He's terrible at it, and we always end up fighting. I just decided to come back here in my office and let him do whatever it is he thinks will look good. If I don't like it, I'll just change it when he goes to work Tuesday. Heh. That'll piss him off good. It's better than bickering while we're cooped up in the house for three days because, did I mention, the rain is going to freeze and ice up the roads any second now.
I watched a show about tornados last night. I should know better. I had nightmares about tornados all night. (Did you know that the plural of tornado is correct as t-o-r-n-a-d-o-s or t-o-r-n-a-d-o-e-s? I didn't until I just looked it up, cuz I'm a nerd like that.) I've had nightmares about tornados all my life, but I always do when I watch a show about them before I go to bed. Maybe I need to watch shows about Jeff Gordon right before bed. Hmmm...