Out of the bosom of the air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The wind blew so hard and so long last night that snow was not only on the tops, hoods and trunks of cars in the hotel parking lot, but it was also plastered on the sides like wet cement that was partially hardened. When I finally pried my driver’s side door open, a big chunk of snow broke off the area where the door and top meet and fell into my seat. Grrrr. It’s obvious that I need to buy an ice scraper and brush to use while I’m here.
My co-worker returned from her vacation today, but was so sick she had to leave halfway through the day. I’m feeling better and trying to stay that way, but this office is like a disease-incubator. Most people I see are using antiseptic wipes and/or Purell liquid hand sanitizer, but this crud just keeps going around.
We get a slight warmup tomorrow to the mid-40’s and then the forecast is for snow on Wednesday.
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