Last night it snowed and snowed. I managed to get back to Bray from the office and went for some shopping. Due to the snow I was in a very festive mood, so I discarded my shopping list and bought the food I felt like having: a juicy steak, asparagus, a chunk of a very very smelly cheese, some fresh bread (sin, sin) and a bottle of wine. Forgot about the milk and kitchen towels completely.
Then I walked slowly to the apartment, breathing in the icy air and feeling just so happy. Even the fact, that it started to rain and the snow on the street turned into freezing sludge that, in turn, got into my shoes and socks making my feet go numb, couldn't ruin it. Some panicky Irish were driving by with speed of two miles an hour, pedestrians disappeared and the town was magically quiet.
When I got home, I changed, I ate, I made a failed attempt to light a fire, then I read a little, turned on TV and watched some politics (from "poli" meaning "many" and "ticks" meaning "bloodsucking parasites"). And I went to sleep early.
Next morning the snow was still there and all the sludge from the streets turned into ice. I had a cup of tea by the kitchen window and watched people trying to walk, clutching onto the little green fence (the one with broken pigeon and dead umbrella lodged underneath it). I have to admit, I was amused by their inability to adapt to the weather.
I put on my winter shoes and went to work. Not a car on the street.
An hour later, I report, all still icy and snowy.
Best Christmas ever, I tell you. Wanna see my snowman?