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Well, after this weekend’s Snowmageddon, we’re all set to get another round later this afternoon through tomorrow here in Your Nation’s Capital.  The weather-wallahs are still calling for anything between 10 and 20 inches of extra white stuff to go on top of the two feet or so that certainly hasn’t gone anywhere in the past 48 hours.

We’re a bit better prepared this time around at the Port-swiller residence, self having hauled in an extra allotment of firewood and Mrs. Robbo having stocked up on foodstuffs that can be cooked on the stove-top (thank Heaven we put in a gas range this past summah!) or don’t need to be cooked at all.  As I have remarked elsewhere, as fond as I am of the great Commonwealth of Virginny, I have nothing but contempt for Dominion Power, which does not seem to have upgraded its grid since Reconstruction, and I have every confidence that we’re going to lose power again.  Over the weekend the outage lasted about 20 hours.  Who knows how long it will go this time around?

Also of interest – we have never been particularly happy with the back deck of the PSR. a rayther ugly affair “designed” by the previous owners.  At the same time, we’ve never been at a point where we felt we could justify blowing a big wodge of dosh to replace it.  The standing joke has been to hope that it might collapse on its own accord due to a storm of one kind or another, and we could get the insurance to pay for its replacement.  With three or four feet of snow heaped up on it, this becomes something of a greater possibility.  Fingers crossed!

A conversation between Robbo and the youngest (8 year old) gel this evening:

8YO:   Why should I do everything you say?  You’re not my ruler!

Self:   Well, as a matter of fact, I am your ruler.

8YO:  Oh?  Well come here then, Dah-tee:  I have something I need you to measure for me!

On the one hand, I admire the gel’s quick wit.  On the other, her impertinence makes my fingers twitch.

I already pity the poor fools on whom this gel sets her sights.  May the Lord have mercy on their souls, for she sure as heck won’t.

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