I awoke from a warm slumber to the sound of...nothing. No cars, no trucks, just quiet. I crawled out of my snug cocoon of piled quilts, threw on some comfortable sweats and peaked out the window. What did I see? Sleet. Fucking sleet. An inch and a half of sleet. Frozen droplet that fall from the sky to turn the roads into, what seems to be, a table covered in white ball bearings. Nice. I put on my coveralls, boots and a hat, grabbed my new snow shovel and went to battle. The accumulation was nicely crusted over and broke into loose piles of the slick shiny beads and slabs and chunks. Whew! Now that that is done, what to do? I'm sick of looking at these walls, watching that flickering idiot box, staring out the windows. My favorite flea market is closed on the weekends. It seems I lost my fascination with gunshops through the gaping hole in my pocket and there are no small shops that a guy can go to and just hang out. Maybe a trip to wander around Cabelas or Bass Pro Shops. I dunno, I just know that I'm NOT sitting around the damn house today. Sleet or no.
I did receive this in my email this morning. And it makes me proud to be a grandpa. My little Diamond.