Gale force winds are whipping around our home, howling mournfully. Snow drifts equal to the height of our porch railings, filling our driveway with wave after wave of the sparkling, crystal icy mounds. The road and the yard merge into one. There is no visible markings delineating the difference. Our neighbors house peeks through the white curtain from time to time, but otherwise we would think we were all alone in the world. Such is the totality of the white out.
Being snowed in should find me busy catching up with things I've been neglecting-being busy with an up coming show- but I am not busy.
I am bored.
There are so many things I should be doing. Most of them for our show, Little Shop of Horrors. Unfortunately, I don't have the space, equipment, materials, or patience to do these things here. I could work on the costumes-except I don't have the paint. I could treat the coats, except I don't have a place to hang them to dry nor a place to dip them.
A wasted day.
Frustrating.
Being snowed in should find me busy catching up with things I've been neglecting-being busy with an up coming show- but I am not busy.
I am bored.
There are so many things I should be doing. Most of them for our show, Little Shop of Horrors. Unfortunately, I don't have the space, equipment, materials, or patience to do these things here. I could work on the costumes-except I don't have the paint. I could treat the coats, except I don't have a place to hang them to dry nor a place to dip them.
A wasted day.
Frustrating.