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It's snowed probably four inches since last night and the plow has not been past on either of the streets that intersect at our corner. This does not bode well for my wading to work. It's strange, though--usually, as soon as I see a flake of snow, I also hear that grating, grinding sound of the plows getting to work. Come on, Madison, I know it hasn't snowed much this winter, but still. You're falling down on the job.

I am the only one awake in the apartment, mostly because I can't ever sleep more than seven hours at a stretch. I suppose that's not technically accurate--The Cat is also awake, and doesn't seem to realize that she won't fit on my lap with my laptop and recharging mp3 player. Right now, having given up her attempts to nudge my laptop off me, she's sulking on the futon, paws curled under, staring at me. I honestly have no idea why she decided to claim me out of the three of us, but she's forever climbing onto chairs with me and into bed with me and curling around my legs when I'm trying to get ready to go out. And she's a big girl. She was morbidly obese when her original owners surrendered her to the Humane Society, and although she's lost eight pounds under her foster caretaker, she's still pretty massive. She's gorgeous, though, grey and white and this strange shade of peachy beige that I don't think I've ever seen on a cat before.

Something about the snow makes me feel very quiet. It makes me feel like this, a song by David Berkeley called Fire Sign. I want to stand in a wide open field, nothing but my footprints in the white, and close my eyes. I think I'll walk down to the lake in a few minutes and just watch the snow fall for a while. It's a perfect calm.

Snowy Madison Picspam!

It's so incredibly beautiful outside right now. I always forget how much I love Wisconsin in the winter.



A tree at the end of Henry St., just before it dead-ends into Lake Mendota.

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