for some reason it's been so cold this morning that i am still chilled, sitting in my best chair, four layers on, t-shirt, overshirt, winter woolen shirt, and sweater. the house is seventy five, should be ok. my feet have rather pourous slippers on, maybe that's the problem. the chills just won't go away.

outside, a couple of inches of snow linger. it was ten last night, and it's still not inclined to melt. we go from the main house to the bunkhouse, where the kids are, or to the shed where the laundry is, or to the brown trailer where the cats live, to do chores and check on everyone, and make sure the kids are in school, that kind of thing. but we have to go outside each time, and there's still snow on the ground. i come back chilled and stay chilled.

in the cat trailer, one cat had been stuck in the bathroom all night. the heater had been on in the main room, but the water was still frozen. i moved the water over by the heater so it would thaw out enough so they could drink it. we had them in the bunkhouse but they were trashing out the bathroom making it impossible to take a shower. the three kids barely noticed their absence though the cats, i think, had paid much more attention to them, the kids, than the other way around. anyway being cats and all, they are relatively self-sufficient emotionally, but let us know verbally if we have failed to feed them or give them what they need.

my wife says, never another cat. she's sick of the work involved in taking care of them. just move them back in with the kids, i say. the kids are always clamoring for their own pets, let them have a couple of kitties and practice on them. practice petting them, sleeping with them, messing with them, talking to them. nah, they had their practice. they didn't ever clean the cat boxes and we had to walk in on them at least once a day. we did save on the heat bill since they were all crammed into one bunkhouse. but it was not easier, and the bathroom was always a mess.

now, the brown trailer actually has a good view, and guards the hillside that marks the edge of our property. the cats sit up in the window of that trailer and take in the sun, something they didn't have so much of in the bunkhouse. they have each other - they are both boys and curl up together in the sun, often, and sometimes all afternoon. they keep the mice at bay; now, i'm sure, the mice are having their way with the bunkhouse and the shed, in the absence of any cats. it's a constantly evolving landscape. and oh is it cold. it was ten this morning, but now it's like twenty or maybe even twenty five, and some of this snow will be melting. i, however will stay in my chair. i can't seem to get enough black coffee.