It's supposed to snow again.
I swear, Goldie, my almost-teenager car, hates me.
She's originally a San Diegan
and really detests I moved her here.
That's why she's hiding in the right corner of the picture.
She's cold and mad at me.
But Rumpole will again have something to watch.
He loves staring at the falling snow.
What must he think is going on?
Please ignore the unmade bed.