Snow

It's almost like in Orhan Pamuk's dreadful novel "Snow"! We are suffocating in the white stuff. It makes everything muffled and slow, it envelops the mind like cotton and puts it to sleep. There's no space left to shovel the darn thing away. It's piled higher than the fence in the yard, almost higher than I can throw. And, it's still falling! Thinking about going to sleep until April.