||[Mar. 24th, 2018|10:54 pm]
There was some rain last night, but I slept through it. I only knew because the bucket that catches the leak on my back porch had a bit over half an inch of water in it. There was no way to tell if any snow fell. If it did, it was entirely gone by the time I went out. But the forecast still predicts a 42% chance of snow between three o'clock and eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, with a 49% chance of rain for a couple of hours after that. My guess is that nothing will come of it. Though the vagrant breezes are cold tonight, and there have been sprinkles now and then, the clouds break up frequently, allowing stars and the waxing half moon to appear. Something tells me it will not be a Bulwer-Lyttonish dark and stormy night.|
The predicted highs for the warm days coming up next week keep getting higher. Thursday is now up to 76 degrees, and Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday are all predicted to have highs of 74. Downright toasty, that is. The anticipation of that is making it easier to get through these last few cold nights. It's supposed to get down to 34 tonight. I'm so glad the cold will soon be over. I need a time of mildness to prepare myself to kvetch properly about how hot it will be getting in a few weeks.
The local PBS station has returned to its pre-begathon schedule, so I got to see English people murder one another tonight. Actually it was only one Englishman murdering his wife, but it's probably best that I ease back into it after some weeks without English murder. Overindulging can be hazardous when one has been starved.
My goodness, I almost forgot that I'd written anything tonight when I got distracted and then almost fell asleep on the couch. Does that sentence make sense? Does anything I say? The almost-nap was probably trying to tell me something. I'll listen.
Oh, I heard swans flying north last time I was outside. Spring is surely here at last.