Groundhog Day again.

As I write this on Monday morning, it's snowing like crazy here in the Hudson Valley.

You know what it did on Saturday? Snow. The week before? Snow. All January? Snow snow snow snow. The temperatures have been pretty consistently nothing with a windchill of a lot less than nothing.

All I'm saying is, that #&^*@ groundhog had better come through today. All of them. Punxsutawney Phil, Staten Island Chuck, even you, Fafa.

Yeah, you, you furry little creep.

I really wanted to stay in bed when I saw the five inches of snow we got overnight with a lot more joining it. Supposed to go to at least six p.m. But the dog had to pee, so up I got. It's already so deep on the lawn from this snow and the previous unmelted snow that it's up to Tralfaz's flanks, and he is a big freaking dog.

It's hard to stay motivated in this kind of weather for anything but maybe making pea soup and killing yourself. But I will try to get some writing done today nevertheless. It's the mark of a professional to soldier on despite mere earthly concerns.

All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy. All work and no play makes Fred a 

UPDATE: Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow and predicts six more weeks of winter. Staten Island Chuck, on the other hand, did not see his shadow, and calls early spring. That means you get to live, Chuck. Phil, I'll see you later.