It hasn't snowed all winter. The Great White North has been sort of beige-y grey and our snow shovel has become redundant.Yesterday Mr. Nag, drunk on the fumes of spring, undertook to move our 7-foot oleander from the basement to the patio ( I wasn't home but I imagine some salty language was used cause it's a heavy sucker). I admit to mildly chastising him when I returned from work, "We could still be in for some cold weather, blah, blah, blah." Now, lo and behold, we have big hunks of white stuff falling from the sky. It's an excellent evening to curl up with a bottle of something and a good book (or someone who's read one). Unfortunately I will be unable to relax because I'll be too busy fretting about the poor chilly oleander. 
No comments:
Post a Comment