Two days of intermittent sleet has left a solid inch of ice on every outdoor surface, which in Texas is the signal for civilization as we know it to break down. C. was supposed to start his second semester of art school yesterday, but classes have been cancelled until tomorrow. I myself will be damned if I'll drag myself forty minutes up an icy highway to dance nekkid for whatever slavering poon-thirsty junkies will brave this weather for a glimpse of nipple. Instead, we've spent these last stolen days of vacation holed up in our bedroom -- the only room in our crumbling manse that can be maintained at a livable temperature -- putting on hats and gloves for occasional forays into the kitchen to make cocoa. C. draws pornographic portraits of me while I solve endless Sudoku. It's a sweet life.
Tomorrow, alas, school's back on and C. will be up and gone at the crack of dawn. It's been nice having him home and all to myself these past several weeks, and I will be forlorn tomorrow when I wake up without him. I'm going back to school myself, starting next Tuesday, taking an adult extension course on "Evolution and Society" or some such at the university across the street. Should be fun. I think I want to be something when I grow up.