The thermometers on the back porch read 33°F and 31°F, the one in the office window reads 35°F. The auto-drippers are keeping the water in the pipes at 40°F minimum. I flushed the pipes anyway, just to be sure.
The temps will probably kill mosquitoes, but I doubt it will do them all in. There will be pockets of air warm enough to keep some of them alive.
I haven’t been hungry enough to make a breakfast taco yet. I will, without a doubt, when my appetite comes around.
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In the 50s at 11 am. Sunny, blue skies, dew point is 17°F.
Waiting for the iice cream scoops to be delivered, USPS.
Ytube was on the sparse side this morning. Most of the outdoor vlogs are no doubt dealing with heavy snow.
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The ice cream scoops arrived. The old ones are from the 70s and/or 80s. They still work just fine, despite the cosmetics. The liquid in the handles keeps the spade from sticking to the ice cream, and the coating requires only water to rinse clean. Shiny.
It reached the 60s today. Blue sky, sunny, dew point in the teens. I almost opted for a scooter ride. Maybe later this week.
I need to trim my bread, it’s starting to curl. I think Tuesday would be a good day, weather-wise. It’s starting a streak of lows in the 50s.
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There’s three more days before the mad money curve catches up to me. I don’t have any need to shop. I’m stocked. I figure that I need to thaw some of the cooked rib eye, make tacos. And I’m due shrimp cocktail. And the jalapeño boudin. I have one more serving of spaghetti, so I need to visualize the transition, including alternatives.
The Sunday evening to Monday morning section of the week is the deadest, when the weekend crumbles and the week has to build momentum. Nothing is happening, the 18 hour void before the rage. Boor-riing. Nothing is being released. The world has gone numb, the weekly 42 hour phenomenon.. The test of self-reliance.