Roy Orbison has a song that begins, "A candy-colored clown we call the Sandman / Tiptoes to my room most every night / Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper / Go to sleep. Everything is all right."
We joke sometimes about this candy-colored clown, because really, who needs a clown, candy-colored or otherwise, trolling your bedroom? And what exactly is it he's up to anyway?
Well, who knew that last night it would be Jack Frost masquerading as that aforementioned clown? I am fine with JF doing his nipping while I am walking in a winter wonderland, but I get more cranky when that wonderland has settled inside the house.
All of which to say: still no electricity. The indoor thermometer read 47F this morning, and all the cats were in little balls, each in her own blanket.
As for me, I relied on the kindness of friends, and found myself a cozy guest bed where I could evade that sneaky clown, if only for one night. I would have hated to become one of those people who show up in the local paper, found dead from exposure in their own house.