Here I sit–waiting. And looking out of my window on the world. Everything is about the same color–gray. It isn’t, really, I guess–the leaves are brown, neighbor’s house is red brick and his car is black but, if you’ll forgive my saying so, everything looks blah and gray. Is the weatherman right or will he change the forecast yet again? Will we have rain, freezing rain, and a few snowflakes? Will the weather surprise everyone and be a blizzard? (This is highly unlikely.)
Nemo isn’t concerned. He’s asleep on the rug. He’s had breakfast and he’s content. I’ll go put out black sunflower seeds for the birds later. And then, I plan to paint more tiny gourd ornaments. They are a lot of fun to do–relaxing.
I had started reading a new cozy mystery yesterday, whose title shall remain a secret with me. The title was enticing, the blurb sounded interesting. The two main characters were in their golden years and were supposed to be feisty and fun. Not sure about that yet or about their ability to solve a mystery. One of them is certainly able to spew four-letter words. Her outlook on life isn’t the greatest. Is this supposed to be appealing? The book, according to Amazon, is selling like hotcakes. I don’t plan to finish it.
This is a “close the drapes, turn on a light in every room, listen to Christmas music, light the fireplace” kind of day. Will it be a snowy day? A rainy day? A gray, cold day? Only Old Man Winter knows for sure and, so far, it’s one big mystery.
Manos Mysteries
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