January 27, 2004

The ground outside is white, and the People don’t seem to like it any more than I do. The Man was complaining about it getting all over his truck, and the Woman says it’s just cold, nasty stuff that she won’t drive on. Granted, I’m not terribly sure what that means, other than they agree with me. The white stuff has to go.

I thought it was, a little while ago. Most of it had disappeared overnight, but then the sky began to fall and there it was again. The Woman says it’s “pretty” even though she wishes it would stop, but I think the whole thing is just nasty. And I’m pretty sure that white stuff is why it’s so damned cold.

Sure, I have my warm places to lay, especially the warm spot where my bed is now, but the windows are too cold to sit next to, and I usually like sitting on my window perches, looking outside. Why bother when it makes all my useless nipples pucker? And I can feel that, you know, as they crinkle and try to invert. It’s not terribly pleasant.

I’m going back to bed. Wake me when its over.

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