I'd be a terrible mother. Or anything that involves taking care of something else. I can't provide constant surveillance or concern. Well, lie. Sometimes I can but it tires me very quickly. I don't think I'd be able to handle even a goldfish.
It's windy outside. The trees are wildly waving at me. Not very benignly, but not ominously either. They're just convulsing, I guess. That's quite all right. We all have those days. Even trees.
The last of the "autumn" leaves dance with flying plastic bags and faded pamphlets. We get a lot of litter here.
I wonder if the tint of snow will be the same 20 years from now.
It'd be sad if it were grey.
Because then you wouldn't get that fluorescent effect at night that you get with white snow. The moon reflects off of the white ground and everything's clear as day. Well, that's only when there aren't clouds in the sky. But even then it gives a frosted effect that I really like.
Sometimes I pretend I'm in Russia.
Or Norway...
For some reason, pretending I'm in another country makes things seem a bit more exciting.
I don't complain about being a simpleton. It's most practical anyway.
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