At the hair salon.
Pat, my mother-in-law from heaven, as I like to call her, phoned this morning. She had a cataract operation last week and isn't supposed to get any water in her eyes.
"Could you drive me into town today to have my hair washed?" she asked.
"If I can get out the door," I said.
Last night when I went to take Ducky out to do his business, I couldn't get the door open. That was fine with Ducky; he starts visibly shivering the moment he sees me put my jacket on. Ducky's bladder apparently makes up half his body volume so I knew he could easily last till morning, and it didn't occur to me to go out the front door with him, since we haven't used it in months and the step has a snowdrift on it.
Prince Charming had to come over and rescue me today— the locks had frozen or something—and then I picked Pat up and off we went to town. There's still quite a bit of snow on the roads and you know what? It finally looks like winter is supposed to look around here. There are tall sundogs though so the temperature's probably going to drop drastically.
The bunny above is the resident pet at the hair salon. The stylist remarked, What better place for hairy animals, than a hair salon? Her 13-year-old dog was there too, laying on my feet as I waited.