After yesterday's emotional rollercoaster, I crawled upstairs for bed feeling tired and cold and lonely. Since the temperature had dipped considerably during the day, I decided it would be a good time to pull out the electric blanket.

I'm glad I did. When I woke up around 10am (yes, I'm a lazy bum) I saw that it had snowed last night. We got about an inch and a half of the white stuff. Usually our first snowfall of the season is that dry, dusty snow - just a light dusting that blows away or melts in a few hours. But this was heavy, wet snow. At 3:30 in the afternoon there was still snow clinging to the trees. Not normal at all.

Of course, by the end of the week the temperature is supposed to soar back into the high 50's. That is normal, classic Ohio weather. There's an old, old joke that floats around which goes: "If you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes."

I love snow. There's nothing cozier than curling up on a snowy day on your couch, with a cat in your lap and a good book to read. I love to ski, to go sledding, to make really intricate snow sculptures. Then again, snow is a Bad Thing for transit organizations. Bad weather plays havoc with already tight schedules, and the bitter cold we get here does evil things to the vehicles. And if this winter is anything like last winter, we're in for trouble. Yessir, right here in River City.

Oh, and Jaws has fleas. I think.

She was snuggling up to me today before I went to work, thoughtfully covering my navy sweatshirt in white cat hair. As I was petting her I found a lumpy knob under her chin. Upon further inspection I realized this was a large scab. Ick. I got out the flea comb and carefully picked off the scabby bits, leaving a thumbnail-sized bare spot under her chin. frown After I got most of the scab off, I teased through the fine hairs directly under her mouth and found lots of tiny black dots everywhere. Nits, I believe.

So I got out the flea spray. She instantly recognized the can, and ran for the hills. I finally cornered her and managed to get one good blast on her back (fat lot of good it will do there) before she clawed me to death and vanished again.

Grr. Any ideas? I suppose it's time to get her a new flea collar anyway.

This picture is something rather frightening I got in the (snail) mail today. It was a sales brochure for some sci-fi web site that sells all sorts of stuff. On the first page was this ad. In case you can't read the headline, the ad says:

For some reason I find this very scary. I mean, of all the things to pick out about the figure, they chose the tight red pants. Hmm... I wonder who they are marketing this to. Could it be... horny 30-year-old male sci-fi fans living in their mothers' basements?

Nah.