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Today I feel very uncomfortably how I have Grown Up. It is snowing magnificently and everywhere and the whole world is buried in it, and it is really very lovely and strange, but my thoughts are mainly concerned with 'would you look at this awful great mess that I've got to bicycle to work in all next week?'
Although there was a certain strange magic about bundling up in all of the warm things I could drape round myself (I looked exactly like Mrs Whatsit, only with weirder hair and thick glasses and a much preferable nose) and my very long Annascarf and going out into the world to fetch bacon from a store down the block. The world is vaguely post-apocalpytic in the snow: everything strangely shaped, ordinary things made unrecogniseable, a few people milling about on important errands looking brave and forthright and vaguely triumphant (or simply harried and cold and wet), and once in a while there'd be a sound like a car going by, which was so bizarre and out of place that I would jump and look round for it. yp
And: because of the snowstorm, I am sitting on my bed typing, instead of waiting for my inevitably late replacement to come in at the kiosk. The assistant manager called me this morning and told me not to even bother. It is the first Saturday I have had off in months.
Although there was a certain strange magic about bundling up in all of the warm things I could drape round myself (I looked exactly like Mrs Whatsit, only with weirder hair and thick glasses and a much preferable nose) and my very long Annascarf and going out into the world to fetch bacon from a store down the block. The world is vaguely post-apocalpytic in the snow: everything strangely shaped, ordinary things made unrecogniseable, a few people milling about on important errands looking brave and forthright and vaguely triumphant (or simply harried and cold and wet), and once in a while there'd be a sound like a car going by, which was so bizarre and out of place that I would jump and look round for it. yp
And: because of the snowstorm, I am sitting on my bed typing, instead of waiting for my inevitably late replacement to come in at the kiosk. The assistant manager called me this morning and told me not to even bother. It is the first Saturday I have had off in months.
