You know, normally I love when it snows.  No matter how the wind howls or how much ice clutters up the roads, my home is always a safe, warm little haven.  That is until the transformers blow in the area and even those of us with underground lines lose our juice.  Then the crazies set in.

If it wasn't for the friendly folks at Sister Bean's Coffee House, I'd be sitting at home huddled around the kerosene heater.  The very same heater on which bacon, eggs, and biscuits were cooked this morning.  The very same heater that's going to be the only source of light once 5:30 hits and the sun goes down. 

It's very rare that I ever wish I could have made it into work, but today is one of those days.  I've been so cold and bored that braving the horrors of the roads this morning (and all the broken trees littering said roads) might have been the better option.  At least at work I could have been warm while sniffling and sneezing my head off.  Thanks to nature's fury, I've both had my cold and been cold, and that's absolutely no way to live. 

It's amazing (and sad) how quickly cabin fever sets in.  I've read my friend Craig's new book in a matter of hours, and since then I've been… well, staring at the little circle of gas-powered flame inside the heater and listening to branches snap off trees. Maybe I'm just a product of the internet generation, but without SOMETHING to take my mind off of how bored I am, I'm practically bouncing off the walls.  At least I get a brief, caffeinated respite from the cold.