A conversation with myself

[The scene: We’ve just finished eating supper. I’ve gently encouraged Kates to wash dishes and clean up the kitchen -- since she gently chided me earlier in the day for wasting water when I wash dishes. It’s about 8 o’clock.]

“I guess I’d better go out and shovel.”

I peak out the front door.

“Maybe not. It’s still snowing.”

I groan.

“I gotta get the mail.”

I open the door. The snow is a couple inches higher than the base of the storm door.

“This’ll be interesting.”

I suddenly decide to abort the task.

“I don’t wanna go out there.”

I begin pacing in the kitchen. And then return to the front door, trying to muster up the courage to go out.

I groan louder. And then suddenly notice the beauty of our wreath covered with powdery snow.

“Hey, look at our wreath!”

Kates, washing dishes now, laughs at the sudden change in my mood.

I look at the falling snow again and I groan louder yet.

Kates laughs at the revert to my original mood.

“I’ll go and shovel later.”

I retreat to my office.

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