Feeling: lazy
Listening to: Amy Rigby - Cynically Yours
Reading/Watching: The Libertine

If I look out my front door, the lawn is silvered with frost. The sidewalks gleam with a deceptively beautiful glass sheen. Trees hang ashamed, green underneath the rime of ice, their boughs weighed underneath the sudden winter. If I take a leaf in my hand, I can peel its ice coating off like a shell, and have a fossilized oak leaf impression to keep in my freezer.

The world is canceled today, nothing but hospitals and policemen reporting for work. It's something of a waste for my day off, but the bonus is mon coeur, tromping down the stairs in sweats and socks after hearing that the base is closed today, crooning "life is gooood" with the most horrendous bed hair God ever made crowning his head (seriously, I counted four cowlicks).

I get to make breakfast the slow way, and make some phone calls, prowl around the internet, and enjoy the closest thing to a snow day that I'll ever get again.

And they said I wouldn't get those after leaving school.

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